


Golden King, Gilded Reign

by AnnaCipactli12



Category: The Spanish Princess (TV), The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Drama & Romance, Dysfunctional Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2020-03-20 17:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 35,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18996796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaCipactli12/pseuds/AnnaCipactli12
Summary: The new King of England promises a new dawn for his people. It will be a renewal of Camelot, with wonders never before experienced by the people and yet ... all this prosperity comes at a cost which is paid by his loved ones. In the end, is it all worth it?





	1. Cheap Crowns

**Gold, Silver and Bronze Crowns**

Sometimes I wonder what life would have been like if my younger brother had been the one destined to wear the crown of St. Edward in my stead. I see the way he looks at Catherine. It worries me. When I think of the endless possibilities that could have arisen had I died on that fateful day I fell victim to the sweating sickness.

Brother Andre lost all hope for a recovery. He hurried to inform my parents of the grievous news. He nearly beat his horse to death to get to Greenwich. Much to everyone's shock, my parents' misery turned to joy. Shortly after my father lost all self-restraint and was comforted by my mother's soft promises of more offspring, another messenger arrived. Only his message was one of hope, and not of sorrow.

"The Prince lives." Three simple words. No more was needed to lift the monarchs' spirits. Church bells rang throughout all London. People from all over the realm drove in loads, bringing their family members and their neighbors, to Canterbury. It didn't matter if they came by foot, carts or riding wild beasts. Their devotion caught the attention of other Christian kingdoms who saw in my recovery, a dangerous weapon that would be use by my father to further bolster our claim.

They were partly right. And I say partly because it took my father less than two days for him to order pamphlets to be distributed on every town, starting in his homestead in Wales, that this was proof that the Tudors were on God's graces. I, as my namesake, was the prince who was promised. The one destined to bring a new golden age into England.

"Arthur is God's herald." One pamphlet read, while another ended with "he is of the blood of the dragon. He is the King who will bring us into a new age of Camelot."

Empty promises that meant nothing. I wish people weren't so blinded by prophecy. If it weren't for Catherine, I wouldn't have made it this far. I owe that woman everything. And yet, I can't bring myself to look at her as a husband should a wife.

* * *

Henry could. And that self-awareness irked Arthur. She was his Mentis, his muse; the voice of reason in a world filled with religious heresy and superstition. The 16th century was a time of great change. Everyone felt it. Men gossiped among themselves more than women. Who'd be the next King to fall? Kings were no longer infallible. Though for some, they still were. Those that thought this way, were deemed heretics. A King was only as infallible as God made him. And just as the good Lord through his chosen one on Earth, the vicar of Christ, who wore the triple crown, could make him, he could easily unmake him.

Henry thought it was a cruel jape of fate. Arthur on the other hand viewed things differently. He was the King who'd bring the fabled Camelot, was he not? Then why, he asked his top councilors, did he need the permission of an old Italian fart who'd never given two shits about his realm except when it was convenient to him?

* * *

"Your husband is threading on dangerous ground, Catalina." Harry told his sister Queen.

"Do not call me that."

"It is the truth. You know it. I know it. Everyone with a brain knows it. Why do you refuse to acknowledge what is in front of you? You have never remained silent when Arthur did something that went against Christian principles." He pointed out.

Catherine wasn't comfortable with Harry's f _amiliarity_. They had discussed it before _. Endless times now. Why must he insist?_

The Duke of York did not wait for her answer. He got closer until her back hit the wall covered by rich tapestries depicting the fall of man when Adam listened to Eve and partook from the forbidden fruit.  
"Sooner or later, questions will arise."

She grinned. "Courtiers are like vultures. They hover around dying animals then run like cowards when they discover their king is not the useful fool they thought him to be. Arthur is a good Christian King. You two studied from the same teachers; if anyone should be afraid of a Tudor breaking Church law they should be afraid of you."

"I've done my fair questioning but did the early church fathers not say that it is of the wise to question everything for only then can we uncover the true nature of our Lord and his son, our savior Jesus Christ?"

She chuckled. "You have a way with words, Harry. I see why my ladies fall for you every time."

He looked down at his feet, feeling ashamed.

"It is alright. I'm not ignorant to the ways of men. You forget I am the daughter of the greatest womanizer that ever ruled Spain. It's natural for young men to engage in trysts. I don't approve but it is in every man's nature."

"Not in this one. Your father was who he was. I was honored to have fought alongside him but Cat, I swear to you, if I were not marred by this sinful desire I have for you, I would not be in this predicament."

"Stop it. You're young, you can still choose from countless of the women throwing themselves at you or the eligible foreign brides who've heard of your sexual exploits-"

"Good God, exaggerate." Harry said, laughing at the wild stories that had been circulating about him. Not that he minded, it kept him away from being engaged with any of those uptight foreign royals whose looks and achievements fell short of Catherine's natural beauty and superlative grace.

Catherine ignored his minor interruption. "-and naturally, well … who can blame them for being so eager to marry the fabled Adonis, quite literally. The King of France's sister got angry when she found out you insulted her brother's envoys."

"Now speaking the truth is insulting? The woman has been married two times. She is a harpy. I've heard wilder tales about her than are being spread about me. All she cares about is power; when she found her daughter was near death, she was already planning for her replacement."

"Do not be so mean spirited, have pity. The woman has lost two children and two husbands, and on top of that, has had to contend with a bunch of greedy men who've always questioned her involvement in her brother's government."

"Pity? I pity the bloke who'll marry her who thankfully is not me." He sighed. "Why must we go on these rounds, you and me? Why can't we just admit our feelings and get over with it?"

"Because there is nothing to discuss. You are my brother-in-law. There is no us in this life or any other life." She was telling him to get over it but he couldn't. The more she pushed him away, the more his loins stirred when she was in his presence.

"Just once," Harry begged, grabbing her arm as she turned to leave. Before she protested, he pulled her to him. Their faces were so close that they could feel each other's breath. "Just once. And I promise you, I shall never bother you again."

 _Just once._  She shouldn't but he had promised it was only once.  ** _Just once_** , and they'd never have to deal with this again. She'd be a liar to her heart if she said she hadn't thought about it, but a bigger liar to her entire being if she denied herself this pleasure.

Adultery was a sin _. Only when a woman gives herself fully to another man._  She wrestled with her mind. If this was so sinful, why did it feel so right? Why had her knees almost buckled when without giving it a second thought, she had given a quick nod and he immediately, without hesitation, pressed his lips against hers?

If this was a sin, let God damn her for all eternity because she wanted more than a lover's kiss.


	2. Untrustworthy Daughters of Eve

**Untrustworthy Daughters of Eve**

_"I used to think there was a God until there wasn't. Such things are heretical for me to say. If any preacher were to uncover my true ugly self, it would give ammunition to my enemies who'll undoubtedly use it in the blink of an eye to dethrone me ... 'Wear the crown on your head. Control it, don't let it control you.' Were my father's last words before he breathed his last. Since my grandmother's betrayal, I have always been mindful of the future. God is conjured by human need. If he is indeed real as you and me, then He is indifferent to human affairs. If by some extraordinary chance He does care, He cares for the spider in the web, not the fly about to be consumed ..."  
_ ~Queen Elizabeth I's Secret Memoirs, published by the Cambridge Scholars of the New History Society. Seventh edition.

Do you want to know the ugly truth? Harry's not the arrogant lecher he thinks he is. I know. Big surprise but it is the sad truth. Harry, out of all the thorns I have had to pull from my backside, he's the one who's been hardest to get rid of. He's like a plague, everything in his path becomes corrupted.

The first time I found them together, I'm not ashamed to say that I felt enormous satisfaction. Watching my brother squirm in terror, yelling like a mad shrew, gave me more pleasure than soaking in the blood of my enemies.

As for my dearest wife, nothing brought me more joy than seeing her and my daughter-in-law plead with me to spare her and my brother from a traitor's death. To show how merciful I was, I answered their pleas.

**~o~**

Arthur's mercy however came at a high cost. His second daughter-in-law who had remained quiet out of love for her daughter and her husband's future crown, made a terrible bargain with Queen Catherine. To save her from the disgrace that would befall her and Harry, she convinced her to submit herself to the King's mercy and swear before God that from now on she'd be as her motto, a humble and obedient wife.

Catherine initially refused but Anne's strong words brought her to kneel before her lord and sovereign. "You've damned me." Catherine said, looking accusingly at Anne. The room she was in was luxurious like her previous apartments but less spacious. She had been reduced to a Queen solely dependent on her husband's grace, with less than four ladies to keep her company. All carefully selected by Arthur.

"You made your own bed. You should lie in it but that would shatter the foundations this monarchy stands on. The scandal would be too much for the king to handle."

"Or his son." Catherine added. She smirked at Anne. "Do you take me for a fool, daughter? You were in my service and before that, your mother and sister were. I knew that you were meant for more than being married off to some Irish Count to settle some land dispute between the Irish and the English. I entertained your ambitions because I saw in you a worthy suitor for my son and because it avoided me the pain of having to quarrel with my husband and Wolsey over their preferred match with that sickly French Princess."

Anne couldn't help but smile at that. "Some say I am more French than English."

"Some say the same thing about me. I am more English than Spanish. I don't care what the people say, neither did you." Catherine commented. "Were my son a dolt, I would have thought twice but as it happens he isn't but he lacks direction and like a seasoned commander, I gave him a skilled captain to stir him in the direction." She sat on the empty armchair facing Anne. "Sweet irony. Why are you truly here, Anne? Come to gloat some more?"

"Why would I do that when others can do it for me?" Anne answered. "I was never your enemy, Catherine. You gave me something that went beyond my wildest dreams. For that I'll always be grateful but do you remember what you told me when you convinced the King to make Elizabeth titles of her own?"

Catherine nodded. How could she not? Arthur was against it. It went against tradition but tradition had been broken many times in England. Had his grandmother and another distant female ancestor of his not been sole title holders? What about her friend, Margaret Pole? Was she not a Countess in her own right? If God would not grant Anne and William more heirs, than they needed to prepare Elizabeth for her future role and give her something that'd also make it clear to their subjects who would rule after her father. She was created Duchess of Richmond and Marquis of Pembroke. Both titles and land holdings were a call back to the titles that had been held by the first Tudor monarch, his mother and uncle.

 _"Arise our little Margaret Beaufort."_  Arthur joked. Everyone joined them in laughter after Catherine added: "No, do not spoil this moment, you're going to make her cry. She deserves better. She is much prettier than nun Beaufort."  
It was one of the happiest moments of their marriage and of Catherine's life. It made her hopeful for the future.

 _I should have never turned my back._   _It's when you least expect it_ –her mother had told her- _that those you trust the most, will stab you in the back._  Who knew that the one she needed to watch out for wasn't one of Harry's jealous ex-lovers, but her beloved daughter-in-law?

 ** _Ambition, thine stain thy heart._**  Her father had written in a prayer book he'd sent to her, months before his death and her daughter's birth. That and other notes on the bottom of every prayer served as reminders of her childhood lessons when she accompanied her parents into the battle camp outside Granada. How ready I was. _Nothing could stop me. I was always on alert._

One simple mistake, too much trust, were all that was needed to brew the perfect tonic that sent he to her doom.

"I will never forget that day. I was so proud of what you and I had achieved. Lizzie looked like a little queen-in-waiting."

"She might not be, I said. But you assured me that if it was God's will, who was I to go against it? She hasn't stopped asking about you? She wonders why you've not written her back. If only it were so easy to put this behind us." Anne said.

"How do you propose we do it? Smile like two hypocrites while our eyes shoot daggers? While you look for other ways to undermine me so you can save yours and your husband's hides?"

"Elizabeth is too young to understand but one day she will, when she has a family of her own. Wouldn't you have done the same?"

"There are no do-overs in life so it is pointless to reminisce about what ifs. But if I am to entertain this hypothetical exercise of yours, no. I would never betray the woman who welcomed me into her abode."

She was a terrible liar. Such a crying shame. Years of political experience should have give her the training to convince her successor. But she was too proud to choose honesty, mix truth with lies with the person she felt hurt by the most.

After a long discussion, Anne said something that broke Catherine's stubborn shield. "I hoped that we could have gotten to some form of agreement. I care not for your opinion of me, Catherine. I meant every word I said to your women. Let the tongues of those who've hurt the crown be pierced by the thorns of the holy cross but for my daughter's sake, I came here in the spirit of friendship."

"Duly noted and duly given." Catherine said icily then turned to view the window. Outside her granddaughter Elizabeth was playing with her cousins and favorite aunt, Princess Mary. The two were like sisters. It made Catherine happy, knowing that Elizabeth had formed a bond with another strong minded girl.

"Lizzie loves her." Anne said knowing the laughter of their daughters had caught her attention. Catherine did not turn back to her. She did not need to. Her agreement was enough for her. "William and I have talked about having another child."

"You will. You two are still young. Young enough to give us a son to carry the Tudor name."

"Perhaps or perhaps not. Either way, we are happy. Lizzie is our axis mundi, with the right role models, she can become the greatest ruler England has ever seen, just like her Spanish namesake."

Catherine did not respond to that. Days passed and she was moved to Kimbolton. Arthur was isolating her from everything and everyone she loved. Last she heard from Harry, he had been released from the Tower and placed under house arrest in one of his less luxurious properties.

Arthur always thought of himself as the epitome of chilvary. _In the beginning he was._  But things had changed. He had become more ambitious and jealous. His jealousy had been too much for her to bear. She thought she was stronger than most women but she turned out to be just as weak as the first woman, Eve.

This was much her fault as it was Harry. She had made her bed. She had no choice but to lie in it and face the consequences. A part of her scolded her. It reminded her whose daughter she was, and that regardless of the sins she committed, she still had aces under her sleeve.  _Are you going to let Arthur and his cronies beat you down? What happened to the girl who promised she would bow down to no one except for God?_

_**She's still here.** _

Her subconscience was right. She was beaten but not broken. How many times had the soldiers of God been defeated in battle but got back up on their feet, stronger and tougher than ever? Only God could judge her. If Arthur thought this gilded cage was enough to contain the raging beast within her, he was going to be sorely disappointed.


	3. Duty Over Desire

**Duty over Desire**

They say that God doesn't owe you anything. That you can have the world at your fingertips. My son used to believe that until he met Anne. Every minister in the Privy Council warned me about her but I heeded my wife's counsel instead.

What a fool I was. I experienced buyers' remorse the morrow after their consummation. I quickly changed my mind after Anne's brother brought me news of my wife's betrayal. Any other man, she told me, would have railed against them for disclosing this dire news to him. I responded her simply by giving her the letters patent to her brother's elevation, turning him from a Viscount to an Earl and her to a Marquis in her own right.

My younger son's wife on the other hand disapproved of my actions. She kept her mouth shut -as wise women usually do- but she didn't have to open it to let me know what she thought.

Every woman, regardless of how artfully deceptive she was, was rendered powerless before the cunning of superior men.

 _Because only superior men can bring down shameless women_ -I write. _Never let your guard down. Be a lion. Not a lioness. Your mother was a lioness out of necessity. She employed qualities proper of a lady in her station. Someday you will too and they will work. But only for a while. Before long, you will find that they are useless against the greedy courtiers in your midst whom you'll be helpless to stop. What will you do then? A woman with impotent with anger will be even easier prey for England's enemies in the North and in what was once ours, in France, and the South, in your grandmother's treacherous land of Spain ... Act like a lady if you must but never be a Queen. Always be a King. Wear your crown proud and show your enemies that you are as your Tudor forebears, a titan ready to crush her enemies at the first whiff of treason._

When my bones have turned to dust, and my son lies buried next to our ancestors with the worms eating the flesh off his corpse, my granddaughter will be given the ring of state and this letter. I don't trust that she will open it. I know she will because whenever I see her, I see my father's eyes, my grandmother's eyes and more important, my eyes. Eyes of wisdom, with an ambitious vision that will make men tremble and women fall to their knees in reverence.

* * *

If Arthur's suspicions were correct, Anne would have no more offspring besides Elizabeth and her infant sister. The country had been praying for a male heir to secure the Tudor name, but their prayers had so far not been answered.

The realm despaired if her daughter, who was a darling but not the son they desired, inherited the throne. 

"There might be time. Didn't Eleanor of Aquitaine have John Lackland when she was near the end of her monthlies?" One old lady in a marketplace in London said to the glover who lived across the street. "She was already past her prime."

"Aye and so did Elizabeth with Jesus' cousin, John the Baptist, in the bible. You need not remind me, but Elizabeth had no children before John and Queen Eleanor had already given birth to plenty of healthy children before her John. Our Princess of Wales has been pregnant several times and unlike our Queen, not one baby boy."

"That can change. We need to have faith and pray harder."

The glover thought this went beyond the matter of faith. He was not the only one. Plenty of commons doubted that they would get their longed-for-prince. The courtiers were certain of it. Many of them were happy to whisper among themselves the possibility of sowing the seeds of discord between the crown Prince and his wife, which would lead him to seek an annulment -easily given by his parliament. Afterwards, England would strengthen its alliance with the Protestant league through a union between their prince and one of the German princesses.

Their plan however, would never come into fruition for the simple reason that they had understimated the adoration the Prince had for his wife. Not to mention, the trust her father-in-law had for her.

* * *

 

"Aren't you afraid that they will plant the seeds of doubt in His Majesty's ear?" George asked his sister.

Anne chuckled. "They have tried for years. Anne, the temptress. Anne, the witch. They've failed. Every single time."

"You surprise me, Anne."

"How so, little brother?"

"You could have aimed higher. Fully disclosed the King everything and I do mean everything, you've found about the Queen's affair with his brother. Why didn't you?"

"I have my reasons. Don't question your future Queen, George. You know that everything I do, I do to protect our family."

George didn't believe her but didn't probe her any further. 

* * *

 

Kathryn Parr spent the evening in her private chambers, devoted to translating old Greek works to Latin and then to English. Helping her was the Princess Mary. Mary was the only one of her husband's siblings whom she got along with.

She had tried forming a friendship with Princess Matilda but there was something about the older Princess, she couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was, that she found unsettling.

"Two more to go." Mary told her. "Why isn't your brother with us? Is he still with his scary wife?"

"Mary! You know better than to refer to poor-"

Mary cut her off with her boisterous laugh. "It's the truth. Every one who is anyone knows that the scholarly Thomas Parr is this close to getting his annulment."

"It's still not a nice thing to say. People fall out of love and my brother might yet come to his senses."

"I pray that he does." Mary said, doing her best to convince her sister-in-law that she meant it but Kathryn didn't swallow it. "But let's assume the worst and he doesn't. Isn't it better to leave one bad marriage for a chance of happiness with another?"

"It's the ideal dream but we are of noble birth. We marry who we are supposed to." Kathryn said with a tone of finality. Her words cut deeper than any chide she'd received from her mother in the past. They served as a reminder of Mary's impending fate. _Sent to a far away land to marry someone I am yet to meet, for the sake of an alliance_.


	4. Empty Promises

**Empty Promises, Dark Retributions**

I thought things would get easier over time. Catherine has not gone a day where she hasn't reminded me how much she's grown to despise me and no, it is not through her words. Thank God, I don't have to listen to her insufferable advice. Her presence alone is what does the trick.

When it comes to putting up a farce, my wife is an excellent actress. The best that ever lived. But when it comes to deceiving the iciest of heart, she fails miserably.

You can't win against God; that's the first lesson my mother taught my lord father when she showed him how far she'd go to protect her family, even from her own.

I will never forget how relieved she was when she saw me. I was her Godsend. Our ruthless ancestress had been conjured by the Woodville whores to cause harm to her enemies, God had saved me.

One simple word and she would have gone to hell, back to the realm from whence that water succubus ancestress of ours came from. But as it happens, I happened to take more after warring, level-headed Lancastrians than the drunken, vicious lechers Yorks male she admired so much.

Not a day goes by that I do not envision her standing before me, pleading for my brother's life. That would have been a sight to see. Alas! It's not meant to be. The permeation of Harry's petty threats will have to suffice to give me a good night sleep.

* * *

Arthur wasn't the only one basking in his brother's misery. Lord Lisle, who had been forced to presence his father and his companion's joint executions, was given the privilege of handing over the great seal of Lancaster to its new owner.

"You must be joking. What kind of sick, cruel jest is this? Has my brother not had his fun, turning me into this?"

"Quiet down, Your Grace. Our Majesty is a merciful lord."

"So merciful is he that he condemned his sister into perdition." Harry retorted. His finger pointed in the Viscount's direction. "There's been no viler, sycophantic, conniving piece of villainy than you. I should have done away with your entire lot."

"But you didn't and I have you to thank for my rise." John Dudley said. A sadistic smile danced on his lips. "Imagine that, the lowly son of a fiend. Tudors, too proud for your own good but too good for wily opportunists like me."

"Careful Dudley. The longer you keep a lion in a cage, the more fierce he becomes." Harry threatened.

Dudley's sadistic smile continued plastered on his face. Let the king's brother threaten him all he wanted. Dudley finally had the upper hand against one of Henry VII's line. No revenge in this world felt sweeter.

* * *

There was a recurring joke among the nobility. Kings who do whatever the hell they want ask more favors from their noble subjects while those that have virtual no power and dependent on how well they are liked by their subjects -all their subjects- act more conceited.

Kings who are masters and commanders of their realm are beholden to no one except for God. They do not need to ask their subjects permission for anything, unless they want to appear cooperative for the masses. The Tudor Dynasty were not only masters and commanders of their realm, they were also the lords of their own destiny. They refused to abide by the rules of man and God; regardless of what their rivals accused them of, nobody could deny their self-reliance and resilience.

Whatever obstacle come their way, they will overcome it. The blood of the dragon flows through their veins; they were the golden lions, the longed for princes that had been foretold since the times of Camelot. Like his namesake, Arthur II had everything perfectly planned.

His father uprooted the white rose and cut out the other weeds before they strangled him in his sleep. He was going to do the same.

Arthur was brought from his musings by his daughter. She was wearing a simpler gown in contrast to her older sister, but it was the same color, purple.

"Mary, your governess tells me you continue to excel in your music lessons."

"Yes, father. But I have come here to ask something out of you. You said that I could if I continued to make you proud and I do not need to be a scholar or quick-witted like Harold to know that I have for a long time."

Arthur smiled. "You are far too bold for your own good, daughter. Tell me then, what is it that you want?"

Mary took a step forward. She wasn't afraid of her request or what her father would say. She had mentally prepared herself for the displeasure it would bring him -and possibly her.

"My mother has been away for nearly a year. I wish to see her for the simple reason that I miss her."

 _Straight to the chase._  Arthur wondered where she got that from. Catherine was direct but not THIS direct. He could be when he wanted, but he preferred tact, even when he was intimidating people.  _Perhaps it's her Welsh and Spanish ancestors._  If she wasn't born a girl, he'd be proud to take her under his wing and turn her into a formidable warrior to defend her older brother when he became king.

Alas! One of God's cruelest jokes.

"Your mother is away for her own protection."

"It's been over a year since the outbreak of a plague and another May riot." Mary said. "People in the countryside shout her name whenever they see me and Matilda. 'Where is your mother?' They ask. 'Where is our Queen of Hearts, blessed Catherine?'"

Catherine. Catherine. Catherine. It's always Catherine. If his daughter could go one day without uttering her mother's name, he'd put himself through the humiliation that Henry II went through for Becket's murder.

The two are tethered to one another. It's infuriating. Time to take on the role of concerned, wounded husband.

He sighed. "I don't need to explain to you the details of what your mother did to me and this kingdom. She hurt me, Mary and I can't just forgive her out of want. Time heals all wounds and in this case, it is my wounds that need healing. If I welcome your mother back to court, I will leave myself open for attack. Half the court already suspects something's amiss; I don't want to give credence to their rumors and ammunitions to my enemies."

"But they are not just your enemies, they are ours too. I care about my family too, father. I want what's best for all of us." Mary said.

At first glance, she seemed insignificant. Semi cascading dark red hair, thin, petite figure. But the closer you look, you saw defiance in her eyes. Those dark grey pools of violent water revealed a rough interior.  _I pity the poor man who's hooked by them_. He'd be completely won over or hell-bent on breaking free of their union.  _And I would not blame him._

"You can rescind her punishment. She needs to be back with her family. If we aren't seen as a family, than what good is it fighting our enemies when we are clearly fighting among ourselves?"

"You were born in the cold of winter, Mary. You have not been in the heat of political battle like your parents have. All you know is there is good and wrong, people we hate and people we love but when you get older, you'll see that things are far less simple than they appear to be."

"No. I do not believe that. You still love her." This took him aback. "It's not her betrayal that hurts you, it's the thought that she fell out of love with you."

"Of course I love her, she is my wife but she is also my queen and as my queen she has a big responsibility to me and my subjects. It's not just us she puts in danger with her affair, it is the entire realm. You and your siblings have been shielded from the outside world; you don't know how terrible it gets."

"Who better than to help you fight those terrors than the woman whose childhood was spent in battle camps, being educated by two of the belligerent monarchs in Christendom? I know you do not want to see her anytime soon but for the sake of your kingdom that you say you owe your allegiance to, bring her back so the sun can shine on the Tudor dynasty once again."

"You have a good way with words. If you were older, you'd sit next to me during privy council meetings." His mask fell. His face flashed a smile. A short-lived smile that was quickly replaced by seriousness. "Do you really want your mother back, Mary?"

"Yes." She said without thinking.

"I will think about it, daughter. Until then, let's not talk any more about this subject." Arthur commanded and like a good daughter, Mary obeyed.

Both could smell a lie a mile away; but whereas the king was deceptive, Mary was not. Blunt but also secretive, she lacked the political experience that his father had acquired at an early age and that came naturally to her older sister.

Arthur almost regretted lying to his daughter.  ** _Almost._**  His wish to see his ambitions fulfilled outweighed his personal feelings.


	5. Wicked Delights and Unbreakable Alliances

**Wicked Delights & Unbreakable Alliances**

Faith is a funny thing. I used to believe that there could be such a thing as a loving, merciful God but then one day, I woke up. It was the first time that I saw things as they really were. They say hate the sin, not the sinner. I hate both. But I am grateful to my enemies. Without them, I would have never taken the blindfold off.

I would have still been wilfully blind. A blissful ignorant leading more lambs to the religious slaughterhouse.

Now I see. My heightened vision will aid me in my goal to lead me. It has already turned me into a better man, the shepherd I was always meant to be.

* * *

"Listen to me and listen to me well." Arthur told his daughter. "The Duchy of Bavaria holds no significance to us whatsoever but its ruler has a nephew who is a hero to Christendom. It will be up to you to curb his violent nature and turn him to our side. Do you understand?"

"Yes, father." Mary said, her eyes downcast.

"Can I count on you Mary to be my ambassador? Your mother was your grandfather's unofficial ambassador. I need you to be mine. You are the only one of your sisters who inherited both her both our Plantagenets' brains and charm." Arthur said. "Use this," he put one finger to her head then slid it down to her chest, "to rule over this. Don't let the Duke's nephew good looks cloud your judgment, use your brains to shield you from his swagger and tricks; Princes promises much but deliver nothing."

"Yes, father." Mary repeated, keeping her eyes lowered.

"Look at me."

Mary made eye contact with him. Dark grey orbs met violent blue ones. "Your mother's motto is "Not for my Crown." When we married she changed her name from Catalina to the English version of Catherine. She swore that she'd leave her Spain behind to give all of herself to her new land. Don't make her mistake. Be a Tudor first, a wife second. Be beholden to no one but your House."

"I shall, father. I swear I will make you proud. The future Duke will be our ally and his duchy will be our shield against your enemies."

"I have faith in you but …" he briefly paused. Turning away to face his greyhound, a gift from his treacherous brother and his best friend Charles Brandon as a meager attempt to win back his favor, he thought about when she had been born. It was a joyous occasion for his wife. A child of my own –she had written to him. She will be my joy and the pearl of your kingdom.  
It didn't take Arthur more than two seconds to figure out the true meaning behind her words. After he visited her, he snatched her from her nurse's arms following her baptism, and handed it to his sister Margaret who was staying with them at the time.  
Catherine never forgave him and for the first time in the marriage, he didn't care how she felt. It was then and there that he knew their marriage was over.  
Nature however proved to be stronger than nurture. Mary grew up to be a rabble-rouser, throwing the rule book out the window every time her nannies reminded her how, as the King's daughter and one of the most sought-for Princesses in Christendom, she had to act.  
 _"My father is the King and the Tudors got to where they are by showing what they are made of. That is why God favored them. He favors the bold, not the indolent."_  –Had been her response to Master Vives, the last Humanist Arthur had hired as her tutor. Arthur's laughter made the Humanist more nervous. Poor Master Vives trembled before his sight. He apologized on behalf of his daughter but Arthur stopped him before he uttered more nonsense.  
 _"Spoken like a Queen. My mother said the same thing to me when he caught me talking back to Father Bernard Andre."_  –Arthur told the man before he dismissed him for good. He congratulated his daughter on scaring off another one of those uptight learned college men.  _"Empires will tremble before you my little warrior." Hearing_  her father's praise lifted her spirits. Mary wasn't afraid to talk back on her elders.  
She was, as far as she was concerned, born of a great lineage and meant for a great destiny. No obstacle was too impossible for her to overcome.

Marriage however was something she was wholly unprepared for. She knew that it was the duty of princesses to marry princes to forge alliances with far away kingdoms to strengthen their father's realm. But she had put it off as something that might never come. She was after all the runt of the litter, the chick who had hatched the last. Her brothers had married English women. If they could, surely she could too and if not, there was the option of joining a convent where she could spend the rest of her days studying and translating documents, using her knowledge to impress her elders who, seeing her true potential, would exploit her gifts and use her on a crusade or a figurehead like many of her favorite female fighting saints.  
Alas! Her dreams had turned to ash before she could set them in motion by her own father who, eager to place Spain and his puppet pope in checkmate, made an unholy alliance with the German league.

Coming from his thoughts, Arthur broke the silence at last. "Your grandparents placed strong conditions on my father in order to agree to my betrothal with your mother. Kill the pretender and my uncle or else, the wedding was off. My father knew what had to be done and he did it. My mother did not decry his decision; she loved him more for it. 'Now you are a King.' She turned to me and said 'that right there is your father, a King just like my father before him. If you want to keep your seat of power, you will do the same.'"

"It is easy for you to say, father. You are a man, I am a woman who will never rule. I will never get to have a castle of my own without owing it to my husband. I will simply be known as the future wife of His Grace of Bavaria."

Arthur chuckled at his youngest Princess' bravado. "You have still much to learn but you will learn. In time, when you're older and have given him more than one child, everything will come naturally to you."

Mary did not dare question him. Her father always knew what was best for them. He talked to her like he talked to no other members of their family, not even Matilda whose ego was the size of Cardinal Wolsey's premier homestead. Yet, she didn't trust him fully. Mary doubted that he did this solely out of love for her. My mother's betrayal has turned his heart into stone. Had her mother not acted the way she did, or been discovered, perhaps her dreams would have come true.

A warrior nun or a holy warrior like Joan of Arc.

"You can still go down in history as a fighting princess." Meg Douglas told her cousin when Mary returned to her chambers. Meg was there with their other friend, Ursula Pole. "Eleanor of Aquitaine accompanied her first husband to the crusades and so did that other Eleanor, wife of the First Edward."

"Neither of them did anything other than cheer for their husbands." Mary told them. She sank in her wooden arm chair. "I wanted to be known as the sword of God, like the angel Gabriel. Why doesn't this world let women defend the faithful? Women are also called to defend the faithful against the heathens. Why can't we answer that call like men do?"

"Because we are women and it also happens that if we die, the future of Christendom dies with us. Who will be left to give birth to future warriors or prepare them for the wars ahead? Let men fight with their shields and their swords, God has given us other weapons. Not all wars are fought in the battlefield." Meg said.

"Besides, shouldn't you be happy that you will get to lead alongside a warrior?" Meg added. "Who knows? You might get to see some action."

Mary hoped. Ursula said nothing that contributed to their conversation. She just kept nodding her head and said words of agreement every time Meg spoke.

* * *

Catherine poured herself another drink. Except for a few, she had dismissed all of her maids. She had grown tired of lesser women doing things for her.

"What will you do now?" Maria asked her.

"What can I do? Arthur will have his way. Every Tudor does. I pity, I truly do, the poor girl who is tied to Harry." Knowing Harry, he will probably scream from the top of his lungs how much he dislikes her, and if that doesn't work (which obviously won't) find other ways to make his displeasure evident.

"Your daughter is also being forced to tie the royal knot. Doesn't that anger you? Where is your sense of pride?"

"Do you really want to know? It died when Arthur turned me away for his greatest love: power. And my darling daughter-in-love," she smirked, "well, I can't blame her when I would have done the same. In that, she is right. When the King's time comes, may God bless him and grant him more years, she will make an excellent queen."

"She is a snake. A wolf in sheep's clothing."

"No, my loyal friend. She is a lioness. I rather I did not hate her for what she's done but I can't help myself. I do. But I prefer this hatred over one born of frustration, the kind that an acute mind such as myself feels over someone who's a crying ninny like that Fawcett girl my youngest son fawned over." Catherine said. "Queens need to have a grand appetite. As much as this hatred is destroying me, I also welcome it."

"You never cease to surprise me. Just when I think you have run out of things to shock me, you always come up with something new. There is a little flaw in your reasoning."

"Really? What is that?"

"Anne has had many pregnancies, none of them healthy boys, only daughters."

"My friend, if I didn't know how the cogs of your mind worked, I'd say you were egging me to nudge the ambitious bone of my younger son and his dutiful wife."

"Lord Parr's daughter is devoted to you as her mother, God keep her soul, was but she is more loyal to her principles. She'll never opt to serve two masters as you and Anne do, but your son on the other hand ..." Maria didn't finish her sentence. She had done her job, planting the seed of discord in her mistress' heart.

But Catherine disappointed her, quickly plucking that seed before it took root. "If I plunge this country into another civil war, I'll never forgive myself for it. Too much blood has been shed already for the whims of family." She told her friend.

The memory of the wars of the roses, that dreaded dynastic civil war between cousins that had raged for over three decades, was still fresh on everyone's minds. Catherine did not want to see history repeat itself. "Anne will be Queen and if God does not see fit to give England a male heir, then the Tudor Dynasty will have to settle for a Queen." Catherine said. Her tone of finality put an end to the discussion.

Maria pitied her friend. She had so much potential. Her lineage was more Lancastrian than her husband which, if she only had the will to do it, she could use to her advantage to rule in his stead. If it weren't for that big heart of yours, you'd be another Isabella or Ferdinand. An unstoppable Queen whose power would be so great, everyone will fear, love and respect you in that order.

* * *

Matilda found enjoinment in her new task. Watching her uncle squirm when he was told whom he'd marry brought her a joy unparalleled by the rebels her father had punished before a big audience at the beginning of summer.

She craved for vengeance as much as he. The thought that her baby sister would get married before her rankled her. She was the oldest. The privilege of marrying to another great House should be hers first! Life was so unfair. She had to settle with helping her father ruin his younger brother's life.

"She looks handsome." Matilda told her uncle, handing him back the miniature Master Holbein the Younger had painted of his German bride.

"I like her not." Henry spat, throwing the miniature to the fire.

"The feeling is mutual as far as her father is concerned. The King had to move mountains to get this alliance. Secretary Cromwell was all for it."

"Wolsey's worst mistake was allowing for that snivelling toad to infiltrate our midst. Who does your father think he is violating canon law?"

"Violating? Uncle, I must remind you that walls have ears. We should all be grateful. Other Kings would put their self interest about their country and family. As it happens, we are the best of the royal lot."

Henry scowled. "That rose petal doesn't deserve his crown. Sending his daughter to do his dirty laundry. If I were King ..." He stopped himself. What use was it to dwell on fantasies? His world was over. You are going to get married to that ugly mare and that's the end of it.

God damn his brother and his heretic councilors.

Matilda suppressed a smile. Her ladies were having a harder time containing themselves. After they were done spoiling the rest of the Duke of York's day and got back in the royal carriage, they burst into laughter.

Matilda almost felt sorry for the Cleves girl. "She's in for a wild ride." One of her ladies said.

"If she can ride at all." Matilda said. A wicked smile that matched her churlish tone danced on her face.

"Do German girls even know what hides between a man's legs before their wedding nights?"

"I highly doubt they do. The way that man's wife has kept her daughters under a tight leash, I will be surprised if she even knows what consummation is."

Her ladies laughed harder.

"He should be happy," Matilda went on to add, "any other man in this sorry island would. A woman who will keep her peace and do what her husband commands of her. He can run free and plow as many women as he pleases while she remains in bed, waiting for that baby to pop out of her."

The naughtiest and more experienced of her ladies, said a crude joke.

Their carriage stopped. They reached their destination. Sheriff Hutton, a small but still imposing Northern castle in Yorkshire which had been used by many Yorkist kings to keep a close watch on their captives. Now it was a base of operations for the Tudors.

"My uncle will get over it. And if he doesn't the buxom women accompanying his wife will." Matilda said when they went inside.

"Not if the ladies wear those big over-sized gowns like their mistress." Mistress Fillol pointed out.

"Your outspoken curiosity is going to be the death of you one day, Cat."

"It has been spelling my doom for years and yet I am still here, serving the King's prized jewel." Catherine Fillol said.

Matilda didn't want to tell her what she really thought. She enjoyed Catherine's company but she was a realist. She couldn't keep in her company a woman who had twice fooled around, cheated on her husband, one of her prized soldiers and servants, with his father of all people!

"We should create a tune. You sing it and I play it on their wedding night." Cat said.

"I dare not place myself in controversy." Seeing Cat and the rest of her ladies crestfallen look, the Princess went on to explain, "Believe me I do, but the last thing my father wants is to give my uncle more reason to complain, and ammunition to our enemies."

"The king of France cajoles with every woman in his wife's retinue and the emperor hides behinds his wife's skirts." Kitty Howard, the youngest of her ladies, said.

"This is England, not libertine France or virtue-signaling Spain. Our image must always be better. Our reputations, greater." Matilda pointed out.

"No fun." Kitty said.

"Worry not, ladies. When the wedding comes, we will have fun at their expense. And I promise you that the night after, we will thrill audiences, commons and nobles alike, that it will be whispered for centuries." Matilda said.


	6. Enemies Within

"Maria, how long have we been married? I don't want to have another discussion with you again but I will if it means our daughter will have the bright future we promised her."

Maria shook her head. "After all these years, you still doubt me." Lord Willoughby did not refute her. He let his wife have her say. After she finished with her long sermon where she reiterated her loyalty to her royal mistress, he added to his previous plea a reminder of what would happen to those who got on the King's bad side.

"Catherine isn't frightened. She faced worse at her parents' court. The King will need more than strong words to break the Queen's spirit."

"Not everyone needs a sword to get their point across. Arthur is not a conqueror like his grandfather or father, but he has their spirit and if he wants to, he can finish us off like that." He snapped his fingers.

"He's bluffing. Can't you see he has everyone scared with that cold facade? It's pathetic. A true king has no need for silly little games."

"This is not a game, Maria. He means it. I have seen how he brings men down to their knees. You have spent too much time in your mistress' Anglo-Spanish to realize these things. He doesn't just want to humiliate Catherine, he wants to isolate her from everything she loves, including you."

"More reason for me to remain by her side."

He threw his hands in the air. His wife was impossible. Just then, their daughter came into their chambers. She was excited by the news the royal messenger brought. 

"What's this? A summons so quickly?" Maria asked her husband after their daughter, Cat, gave him the letter. "Surely, he can't expect us to leave the countryside when the Queen is to do go on a pilgrimage-"

She didn't get to finish her sentence. The royal messenger who delivered the letter to Cat hadn't come alone. He was accompanied by the yeoman of the guard. Six men at arms barged into their chambers to inform them that they need not worry about making arrangements. Everything they wanted would be provided for them.

"This is all so sudden. I need an hour before I can leave-"

"I am sorry Countess, but it is has been decided. You two and your daughter are needed at court."

"But Her Majesty! I must report to her."

"You need not be beside yourself with worry, Countess. It has all been taken care of. I assure you that Her Majesty will be reported of your immediate departure."

Seeing that the battle was lost, Maria surrendered and together with her husband and daughter boarded the carriage that took them to the King's new residence at Hampton. It took them longer to get there -as was to be expected given their escort. All the while, Maria prayed harder than she ever prayed before, asking for the good Lord's mercy for her friend.

* * *

Matilda chuckled at lady Stafford's jest. Out of all the idiot empty headed English roses parading around shamelessly in her father's court, Mary Stafford was the only one who didn't bore her.

These empty headed cows loved to preach mutual love but when their backs were turned, they spoke ill of each other, including her sister-in-law, the Princess of Wales. Almost all of them had engaged in a secret love affair before tying the knot at the altar. None of them were as pure as they claimed they were when they said the "I do" to their husbands. So whenever they saw one of their own being brave enough to own what she'd done, they projected all their insecurities unto her, and were the first ones to publicly condemned her.

 _It's all so sad._ Matilda though, without actually feeling sad for lady Staffor's situation. Even her own family had turned their backs on her. If it hadn't been for the Queen, she would still be persona non-grata. No one in this god-fearing court would open their hearts to her. The Queen had to make a tremendous effort to get her family to welcome her back.  
_Much good it did my mother. She turned her back on her too, didn't she?_

Matilda did not blame her. Like anyone in her mother's retinue, she was skeptical at first but Mary Stafford proved she was astute like her sister after all.

"One jackal. Two jokers and four queens which means I win in this new game my brother has invented."

"We've invented. Don't forget to give credit where credit is due. If it weren't for us, His Highness the Prince of Wales and my sister wouldn't have come through with their ambition." Mary said, sliding forth a brown pouch containing two golden sovereigns. 

"The crown Prince and Princess get all the credit. That is how it is and how it ihas always been, thank the good Lord in heaven." Matilda said, smiling sardonically at her friend.

"Amen." Mary said, with an agreeing smile.

* * *

Out of the few people that Anne could trust besides her husband was her brother. She confided in him about her latest worries regarding the King's eldest daughter.

"Are you serious?"

"George, please do not start. I am as serious as I can be. Read this letter and tell me what you make of it?"

"Oh good mother that be in thy Heaven of the Good Lord's choosing, I ask thee what more can thy white stallion that rid this world of the horde of Infidels bring to me if not security?" George threw the letter into the fire. Knowing his sister, he was certain this was a copy she'd made of the original. "Is this some sort of bad poetry from her Highness, the King's pearl?"

"Don't be so blinded by your pity, George. That right there is Princess Matilda."

George blinked. "It's Princess Mary's handwriting."

"And her signature." Anne said, meaning her bad poetry. "This is exactly why I have told our father to urge the King to send him to France so Princess Mary can marry the Dauphin instead of her. It's too much power for that woman."

"Anne, it is just one act of buffoonery. Rmemeber how many times you and Mary would try to outsmart each other in the school room?"

"This is not the same, George. You will do well not to understimate her." Anne warned him. 

Unbeknownst to them, one of Matilda's spies relayed their conversation to the Princess. Matilda paid her handsomely. Anne was the only one of her father's subjects who didn't understimate her, but like the rest, she was mistook her ambitions for plain wickedness.

If Matilda wanted to mess with Anne, she would have taken her mother's side and shown her how easily corruptible the Boleyns were. But she didn't. As corruptible as they were, they were useful and like every other English rose in her father's court, Anne Boleyn was a romantic. She'd fallen for her brother; their children had ensured her loyalty. With the crown at stake, Anne would fight tooth and nail for her offspring's inheritance. If her mother had been more discreet, Anne would not have disclosed her secrets to the King.

 _Loving wives and mothers make the worst enemies_. Anne had learned from the most astute and pios women; Duchess Dowager Margaret of Savoy and Queen Claude of France, and her father, that greedy upstart Thomas Boleyn, who owed his family's rise to her. Despite their differences, the Princess of Wales and the Queen had always put on a convincing united front. Anne was deeply thankful for Catherine, for helping her ease her transition into royal life, and being a doting grandmother to her children. But her affair was another matter entirely. If she were a lowly Countess or squire's wife, she could care less who she spents her night with. Arthur II was the first King in decades to inherit his crown lawfully without the need of bloodshed. If any of his rivals would have found out about it, they would have used it against it, putting into question his offspring's legitimacy and by extension Anne's children.

Anne did what anyone else would have in her position. Matilda highly respected her for that; but she had a long way to go. If she wanted to keep this game of royal chess, she had to rely less on her husband and more on her wit and charm to build her own spy network.

* * *

 Mary was visited by her older brother. The Prince of Wales asked her if she had visited their mother lately. "I talked to her last week. She is distraught, father has taken Maria from her service. I swear, by the look of her maids, they were scared to death when they saw me."

"Father is many things but a man who loves being cruel to others, even those who hurt him, he is not. This was a light warning. You can tell mother she can rest easy."

"You should tell her, yourself." Mary offered. 

"After what happened between us, I don't think that'd be wise."

"She misses you. She doesn't say it but I can tell. I have a way of knowing these things."

"I am sure you do. You've always been mindful of others, it's why you're our uncle's favorite." He said with a sly grin.

"Don't be so cheeky, that is what got you in trouble last time when you were twelve and you didn't have our troublemaker brother to take the fall for you."

"That didn't stop you from stepping in and defending me. When push comes to shove, I can always count on my little sister." He said, giving her a wink. That earned him a chuckle. "Besides, no matter where father sends you, I will always have you by my side, if not in person, in spirit. Though your physical manifestation would be more useful to counter our siblings endless drama."

"You're always so literal. I feel more pity for the ladies whose hearts you'll break once you sit in father's chair. They all think that you'll get tired of Anne when you become King and be like our grandfather, Edward IV, chasing after the swans until you're left with the ugly ducklings."

"Most of those, our uncle's bastards, I bet."  
He envisioned all the lords his uncle cuckolded, presenting them with their bastard daughters. If he was like his uncle, who took after his Plantagenet ancestors, he'd push his morals aside for a good lay in the hay. He thanked God that wasn't the case.  
"No, my sweet Mary, I only have room in my heart for one ugly duckling and that is our hopeless bitter sister."

"Shh! Do you want father to reproach you for hurting his precious jewel?"

"Father has too much on his plate to care what that self important hag has to say."

"I insist, if you are going to insult her, call her a jealous, greedy, uptight drama queen." Mary suggested. 

"I call it like it is, sister. All that jealousy will age her faster. Anne and I wager that she will be thirty-one and still be bitter. No one wants to marry a harridan when they can have a cultured, strong minded but wise princess instead?"

Mary smiled warmly at her brother. He always had the best things to say to her _. It is why he will make a great King._ Beneath that cold exterior that mirrored their father's, there was warmth. _God forgive me, I wish he can be King now. England needs a man who puts the fear of God into his enemies' hearts as well as wins potential enemies over with his charisma._ Her father was a good administrator but he lacked charisma. Without it, he was perceived as another Henry VII, cold and unyielding to anyone, including his own flesh and blood.

"It is not finalized. The King of France asks too much of our father and the Queen isn't thrilled having me as a daughter in law."

"The Queen is our aunt. From what I hear, she's lonely over there. She will be delighted to have her niece there to keep her company. You two will be good friends."

"I am not so sure. If Queen Claude were still alive, my slight would be quickly dismissed." Queen Claude was a loving woman. She always forgave and forgot; when everyone else was berating her for her awful behavior to the dauphin, the Queen intervened and eased her husband's concerns, telling him that it was a small mishap, justifying Mary's actions by pointing out that she had been responding to her son's bullying. "It was twelve years ago but the French have a long memory. Just ask our neighbors east of Calais. If she thinks that I am not yet 'reformed', she will have me leading a nun's life."

"She can try, you'll beat her or you'll get through to her. No challenge is ever too great for you." He said, fully confident her sister's abilities of persuasion.

"Mother said the same thing." Mary said. "I wish you came with me next time I visit her; she'll be happy to see you."

Not wanting to argue after he'd successfully helped her regain her confidence, he nodded and said, "I will think it over."

Mary was happy to hear that. The rest of their evening was spent discussing his children. The more the crown Prince spent with his youngest sister, the more he wished that he could be as honest and direct as she was with him.


	7. Twisting the Truth

“Does it ever occur to you that there might still be a chance for my mother?” William asked his father.

“You wish your mother to be welcomed back in my good graces.”

“I wasn’t asking.” William told him.

“Neither was I inquiring. You are in no position to give your father commands, William. One day, when you’re sitting in my chair, your perspective will change. Until that day comes, I get to be the arbiter of morality and distributor of justice in this country.”

_You just don’t want to face the truth_. William told Anne what had transpired. She told him that things could have gone worse. "Your father is many things but he is not a dullard. Your mother still has friends in high places but they're so far away. The commons' support for her is not strong enough to outweigh your father's authority. He who builds on those at the bottom, builds on mudd."

“That’s not the point Anne.”

“Then what is it? You spend your time complaining about your father not being fair enough to you or anybody else but you hardly strive to do anything about it. And do not come at me with the excuse that you use his favored ministers’ rivals as your mouthpiece because those kinds of games don’t work with me. I understand you, my love. You watched how your mother used her influence with your father and your uncle, his. But that’s not how the world works anymore.”

“I am not my mother’s son-“

“You are.” Anne interrupted. “That’s a good thing but not in this case. If you want to be two steps ahead of your father, save the Spanish bravado for battlefield, and focus on using the Tudor cunning. If you do, nothing will stand in the way."

As usual, Anne was right. Yet William could not help but wonder how things would have fared if his younger brother had not let his father's minions disarm him. _Perhaps if  Anne is delivered of a healthy baby boy._ He waited until Anne left the room so he could laugh at that though. _Look at yourself man. You're becoming like your goddamned father, obsessed with having a boy to prove to the world the Tudor dynasty is far from finished._

What other options did he have though? Alfred couldn't be trusted with ruling the kingdom. He loved his brother to death as much as he adored his little sister, but even the simplest mind could see that he was an pompous fool whose entire existence was built on his constant need to please others. First it was him, then Mary. Now, it was the entire world.

_God was wise to choose me as our father's successor._ Alfred would have others rule for him. He'd surround himself with a court of sycophants who'd nod at his every word and be rewarded handsomely for it. _A small price to pay so my brother can feel validated_. Stuck in his safe-space with no one to tell him "no", except for a few brave souls who'd afterwards have to grovel at his feet, offering endless justifications as to why they insulted their glorious king.

It's time my brother finds a wife. He discussed the matter with his father who responded by showing him the marriage offers he received from Italian princes. Months passed however and all their efforts came to nothing. The King of France's eagerness dissipated; his fury at Alfred's vulgar remarks reached his ears. To ameliorate the situation, his mother wrote on her husband's behalf to the King and Queen of France, appealing to their good will. Naturally, his mother's delicate touch helped smooth things out. Both the King and Queen sent a cordial reply to William's parents, informing them that they understood that their son's indiscretion was no fault of their parents. Yet, he remained unshakable. The King and Queen of England had shown wisdom. They had been willing to set aside their differences for their country's sake while their son on the other hand, cared more about his merry mayhem than anything else.

He looked at Anne. A passage from Exodus, the first one they had read together after she introduced him to Tyndale and Luther's heretical teachings, came to mind. "Draw not nigh hither: put off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground."

"I am surprised you still remembered it." Anne said. "What bush are you going to set ablaze to bend the proud peacocks of your father's court to their new king?"

"God willing, my father shall live for many years. But if he doesn't, then God's will be done, I shall wear the crown of St. Edward and you the crown of St. Edith. We shall be like Adam and Eve, without the serpent of tempt us." William. "Yet, there are others that can still be tempt by her wiles. You are right. It is a good thing that I am not like my mother but my mother is still the daughter of the Catholic Kings and as long as she lives, we will always have obstacles standing in the way of our golden world."

"You think too highly of her." Anne said. The Princess of Wales had a strong opinion of her mother-in-law. She was an obstinate, arrogant, entitled individual who let no one stand in the way of her destiny.  
Whatever life throws at her, she throws it back. Fate should know by now not to mess with the mightiest of Princesses. Catherine was no doormat. She was impatient but hid it well under the guise of prudence and a submissive demeanor. Behind that warm smile and light blue eyes lay a calculated mind and ferocious spirit who stopped at nothing to get what she wanted. Anne

**~o~**

Whenever his brother smiled, Henry felt like punching him. How dare the lamb command the lion? Was he blind to their respective weaknesses and strengths?

Or was it that the land was purposefully blind –the worst sin a king can commit- because he refused to embrace the obvious truth: Henry, in spite of being a second son, was born to be King. A leader who’d earned the respect of his men and fear of his enemies with his prowess in battle while his brother cowered behind his desk, putting himself at the mercy of older men who belonged to a bygone era.

_It was my destiny and he stole it from me. Just like he stole everything else_. Henry sardonically smiled. Arthur had taken everything from him but Henry got the last laugh in the end. The one thing that Arthur valued most above everything else was his wife; Catherine was the only constant in his life that he could always count on. A loyal wife and councilor but even a woman as honorable as her wasn’t immune to the Duke of York’s charms.

Every time they were in each other’s arms, Henry imagined Arthur’s face. He yearned for his brother to catch them in the act. Seeing the poor lamb crumble before his eyes, made Henry’s heart skip a beat but his wicked desires were squashed when his need of revenge was replaced with pure, unadulterated love.

_Damn her._ Arthur’s good fortune was a painful reminder that regardless of his efforts and natural talents, he’d always be in second place. But the worst offender was Catherine. His life was a cruel joke, one he was determined to destroy by turning the odds in his favor but fate wasn’t too keen on that so it sent her. Catherine’s pride, bravery, intelligence and beauty disarmed him. He wasn’t prepared for all of that. He had looked to other women for comfort after Arthur separated them but he felt empty afterwards. Arthur wasn’t going to allow the two to make a fool of him for a second time. Arthur’s response to their affair would be dragging the two star-crossed lovers through the mud, forcing them to be in the same room with the knowledge that they were never meant to be together.

_I have to give it to him, he is a spider. Cleverer than a fox, more sniveling than an ugly toad._ That nevertheless was not going to be enough to keep his crown. Those that built on ruthlessness and pride alone died a tyrant’s death. In their place, the more popular choice took the crown for himself.

_Be merry, dear brother. I want to continue seeing your pompous arse so when your failure comes, I can watch you despair as you see me bask in my newfound glory, with your crown on my superior head._

* * *

King Arthur and Princess Matilda were dining alone. Arthur was irate. “A man who thinks himself superior to me is incredulous to the obvious truth. That is what my father said when I demanded to make myself heard. Then my mother barged into the room like some dried old hag and sneered at me. She sneered! She didn’t want me to be seen or heard unless I was next to her golden boy. Harry, Harry this. Harry that.” Damn the minds of women and the men who are incapable of putting them on a leash.

Arthur should have learned from his parents’ example but he didn’t. I foolishly thought that Catherine and I would be different. What a proud peacock you are. He looked straight into his eldest daughter’s eyes. “Why are you so silent today? Cat’s got your tongue?”

Matilda smirked. “Anger doesn’t suit your father. You have always been a man of a few words. Uncle Henry is a master of trickery because he cloaks himself in his shield and good looks. Stop that. Frowns don’t suit you either.” She lightly chastised. “Add in his natural charm which cuts disarms people quicker than any assassin. His promises are a sweet poison he sells to people. He makes himself heard and seen because that is what the mob wants but a man with nothing to prove has no need of that.” There was a pregnant pause. When she began speaking again, her tone hardened. “You asked me three years ago if I would be your shield maiden, thrusting my sword against anyone who wrongs us and I said yes. I have proven myself worthy of your trust and your love.”

“You have and I have rewarded you with my unconditional love.”

“Is that so?” Matilda countered. Arthur’s eyes narrowed. A wicked smile graced Matilda’s hard features. She was enjoying every minute of this. Observing people and learning from their flaws was her specialty, including those she loved. “You admit to the truth yet put a ‘but’ in it. Either you embrace the truth or you do not, there are no in-betweens.”

Arthur clasped both hands together underneath the table. It took every ounce of energy not to snap at her and demand her complete obedience.

“In betweens,” she continued, “are or the politicians and the wishful thinkers. We are Tudors, doers who don’t abide by everyone’s laws but our own. Our dynasty has stayed this long in power due to our good judgment of our characters. We reward those who are loyal and punish those who wrong us. What has gotten yourself so angry that you’ve let your emotions cloud your reason?”

Arthur looked down then up again. Out of all his children, she was the only one with the will of Kings. Nature is a harsh mistress. Fate is even crueler. Either God had a cruel sense of humor or he was far from perfect. If he was flawless, he would have endowed William with all of Matilda’s qualities.

Deciding that it was best to be truthful, the King informed his eldest daughter of the French King’s decision.

“What?” Matilda was taken aback by the news.

“Everyone was mesmerized by your sister’s portrait. I have ten princes lined up, including the King’s two sons asking for her hand in marriage. No doubt, coached by their tutors.”

Now it all made sense. The ire that had taken over her father, took over her _. She?! That upstaging, sanctimonious bitch!_ God forgive her. Matilda’s little sister always brought out the worst in her. Mary was a hot-head who, like thier mother, thought she could get away with everything. The seed was no doubt planted in her head by their mother. 

"I am not intimidated by her. Mary, everyone else with a loose tongue speak are quick to cast judgment based on our looks but looks are nothing without the wisdom of knowing how to use them. I know that I am not more better looking than Mary. I have not envied my sister's looks. Were I truly vain as they say, I would but what are looks if the person wastes the gifts that God gave her? Beauty is more than looks. If someone doesn't know how to use them-"

"You repeat yourself too much." Arthur pointed out.

"I have to since I can't collect my thoughts without being constantly reminded of my sister's powerful virtues. She can be the warrior nun for all I care. I am your daughter and you taught me since I had use of reason that beauty was more than just looks. God made man the master and commander of his green paradise so he can use everything else he created for his benefit and lo and behold, he has. Powder, clothing, hair dye, creams ... Everything that nature has given us, we've weaponized or turned it into something to enhance our appearance or better ourselves."

Arthur was impressed by her logic. "And that is how you see yourself as? Enhanced by what you wear?"

"Why not? Is it such a bad thing to admit one's vanity and use of these conveniences? Should I feel ashamed for taking advantage of something that deep down the sanctimonious and the envious one would too if they had the means? I think not." Matilda said. "Marry her to the handsomest prince, I do not care. If none of them will take me, marry me to one of the lesser royal houses and I shall make it grander than the ones my darling sister is marrying into. Whoever you marry me to, I shall take the poor bloke and make him King of Kings."

"You make him King and outshine your sister but not your brother. Never your brother. He is the future of this country. Don't you ever forget that."

"How can I, father when you remind me every day that he and his one daughter will sit on the throne long." Matilda said.

"God's ways are mysterious. Like Elizabeth and Sara, he might perform another miracle and make her fecund again so your niece is given a little brother and a successor to my and your brother's crown."

Matilda didn't dispute that, although a little part of her prayed that God wouldn't grant her sister-in-law that blessing. A King without a spare was always on high alert. One without a son, even an illegitimate one, to follow in his footsteps was unthinkable.

"I can see the cogs in your brain are already turning. Whatever it is you are plotting, stop now. I will live for many years and so shall your brother which, if he fails to produce a male heir by the time he sits on my chair, Elizabeth would already have married and have sons of her own who will take her place as your brother's successor." Arthur said. "Worry not. Your place in all of this is a great one. As my daughter, I know that you will carry on our legacy through your wit."

"Wit won't be enough if you don't choose wisely for me. I don't want just any prince. I want someone who cannot fall under the influence of that red-headed temptress and her lover. I want a man whose ambition equals mine. A conqueror. A scholar. A doer and a thinker who'll be my protector as I will be his public defender."

"Patience, daughter. It is not prudent to ask too much of me when I still have your uncle and other nuissances in our family to take care of." Arthur reminded her. "Your mother for one, still has your imperial cousin's favor."

"To hell with the emperor." Matilda said brusquely. "Nero didn't think twice about getting rid of his mother. Mother didn't just betray you, she turned her back on all her family. Sooner or later, you will have to make her indiscretions known. Otherwise, our enemies will use it against us. In this climate, it is better to act cruel than be seen as merciful and forgiving."

Arthur agreed with her, however, he still had plans for his beloved wife. What those plans were, he would not reveal them to his daughter. Notwithstanding her loyalty, the King wasn't about to risk everything he had carefully planned because of love.

Matilda had been correct in her assumption. Man had used what God gave him for his own gain. For Matilda, comestics, flamboyant attire, gossip, and the spread of false rumors were her armor. For Arthur, it was empathy. Putting himself in people's shoes had given him a complete understanding of human nature that few monarchs possessed. To know thyself was a good thing. To know your enemies better than they knew themselves was even better. Arthur was going to squeeze them until all that remains is an empty shell. His first victim would be someone close to him; the very person who had hurt him and had been responsible for turning his heart to stone: the Spanish Princess.


	8. Silence is Golden

Catherine warned Mary not to get too close the ambassadors. They always had a way with women, especially the French ones. “I will be fine mother.” She assured her mother. Nevertheless, Catherine continued to remind her. Her mother’s warnings began to ware down on Mary. Instead of a simple reply, she gave a simple nod.

The day finally came. The ambassadors inspected her like one would inspect a horse or something valuable at an auction. Everything from her manners, physical constitution, and scholastic upbringing was addressed.

Mary told her cousin Meg Douglas of her embarrassing experience. Meg didn’t think it was too bad. “When I was offered to Matthew, I had three men and a midwife come and inspect me. The men looked closely at me while the midwife screened me privately. That was embarrassing.”

“Mine is still worse.” Mary believed. Before Meg could say something else, Mary added, “It’s not a competition, don’t get angry with me. Yours was only once, mine will go on and on until one of their masters wins the final bid and then I will have to go through another one which will be to approve my marriage by proxy before I go and marry my husband for good.”

“You don’t sound too excited.”

“I am not. My mother wants something greater from me and my uncle does nothing but talk about how I am the only of the Tudor women who inherited the best of Lancaster and York. I am tired of everyone making plans for my future. Why can’t I just wear armor and be a warrior nun like Saint Hildegard?”

Meg laughed at that.

“What is so funny?”

“Pardon me, cos but I don’t see you wearing one of those boring habits and making predictions like that crazy nun Barton.”

“Oh hush, Meg. The devil may hear you. She is not crazy. People are so mean spreading evil rumors about her.”

“What rumor is not evil? Where there is smoke, there is fire. I have it on good word from one of the Princess of Wales’ cousins who visited where she currently resides, that she told one of the faithful that she hears voices when she wakes up and before she closes her eyes to sleep at night.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Superstition. Fear and wonder.” Nothing surprised her anymore. Last year, there was a girl in the North of England claiming to be Mary until she was forced to travel North by her father so these ridiculous myths could be put to rest. As soon as people saw the real Princess, the fake one was abandoned and exposed for the liar and fraud she was. But not long after, another impostor emerged; one claiming to speak with the souls of the departed stuck in limbo and hear the will of God through the angels he sent her way.  
“People fear what they can’t understand or try to make sense from it.” Mary said. “Whatever her claims, Nun Barton is a sister of the Church and if she is lying, she should be dealt accordingly by the church.”

“That is not what your father thinks or your grandmother who need I remind you, made everyone bow down to her will?”

“She was in Spain. This is not Spain, this is England. If she had been the first woman to rule England, she would have gone through worse obstacles than Henry II. She probably wouldn’t get past parliament approving the Clarendon Constitution.” Mary sighed. “For all those setbacks, I will gladly give all of this up,” she moved her hand up, touching her flat hood with her finger then lowered it down to her silver brooch, “for a semblance of humility and absolute purity.”

Meg snorted. “I wish you good fortune in that endeavor.” Mary’s cousin said, “In this world you are other hunter or prey. It doesn’t matter where you go, you will always be known as the King and Queen’s youngest daughter.”

“Not necessarily. Depending what they have told you, your father isn’t going to do anything without the council’s permission. Everything is ‘the law this’. ‘The law that.’ It is no wonder the King of France thinks he can soften his hard, hard heart with sweet words that will strike his ego.”

Both laughed.

“You are terrible, Maggie.” Mary said. “You’re wrong though.”

“How so?” Her cousin asked.

“For all his faults, the King, my father is not the type of man who lets his ego get the best of him. Neither is he a slave to his anger. People misjudge him because it is far easier to view him as just another king; proud, selfish, boasting of virtue when he has none, presenting himself as the epitome of grace and scholarship. A model from which all men must live. A penitent, courageous soul and father to his people and God knows what else. My father doesn’t pretend to be any of that. He knows he is and that is enough for him. That is why people fear and respect him unlike my uncle Harry who is all of that. He is a new type of King who isn’t afraid to make hard decisions. My uncle on the other hand, under the guise of virtue, plays on people’s fears and desires which works –for a while. But eventually the truth catches up with you and when that happens, you end up becoming the worst version of yourself.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“If my father let his ego get the best of him, he would not have lasted this long on the throne. He is good at reading people and it’s that sort of wisdom which makes him invincible and …” Another pause. Mary gave a cheeky smile. She felt guilty for thinking this but a greater sin would be to indulge in hypocrisy. “… incredibly odious.”

The two cousins laughed raucously.

**~o~**

Unbeknowst to them, one of Alfred's spies heard everything they said. She reported it back to the King's youngest son who in turn, relayed it to his older sister. "She is far too bold." Alfred said, finding his younger sister's bravado troubling.

"Since when has Mary not been a source of trouble? Little Miss Joan of Arc thinks that she is much better than anyone else because she draws her strength directly from God. 'There is only one God and He gives me strength. Faith is my shield, courage my sword, and prayer where I draw strength to stand my ground.'"

"You do hate her, don't you?" Alfred asked his older sister.

"I don't hate her at all. I quite admire her. It's her sanctimonious attitude which irks me." Mary's self-righteousness reminded her of their mother. A red-headed temptress who had put them all in danger when she opened her legs for their uncle.

"Has it every occurred you that the two of you will work better as allies than enemies?"

"We can't. She chose our mother, that is something I cannot forgive. Our loyalty is first and foremost to our dynasty. Our mother betrayed her marriage vows, put us all in danger. If our father wasn't blessed by God who gifted him with wit and crafty speech, we would have been the laughing stock of all Europe."

"I can see it now." Alfred said with a chuckle. "There goes the Tudor Dynasty. Could've, should've but didn't."

"That is not funny, Al. Our dynasty is meant for greatness. Our mother spat on everything our grandfather and great-grandmother built. It's all a big joke to her. She cannot stand living in a world where she doesn't take the center stage." Ever since she can remember, there wasn't a day when her mother didn't remind her and Mary the importance of caring for the poor and the unfortunate. She called it 'gratifying.' "When you help someone, you not only help that person, you also gain something precious.' Those were her words exactly.' I never forget and neither do I forgive. Mother didn't waste time correcting father, advising him, acting as his second in command without ever thanking him. This has never been about England. It has always been about her. When she 'cares' after people, it is only so she can buy their loyalty so if someone should steal her husband's heart, they'd mobilize against the King on thier martyr's behind."

"That is not going to win you any favors. Father is going to marry her to France and you to some unknown poor prince." Alfred reminded her.

"Al, you surprise me. After all these years, you still doubt my prowess."

"I don't question your determination, but we are royals. Seldom are we free to carve our own path. Mary is the one with the gentle looks in spite of her rough interior. It will be her that princes naturally flock to, competing against one another like dogs, to make her their bride." Al said gently, yet his voice carried a tinge of harshness that could have been mistaken for cruelty by any other Princess. His sister wasn't like other Princesses. Her lady-like manners masked her iron willed and her unbridled ambition.

Matilda grinned. It was a secretive grin that hid something far more sinister than the intentions she made known to her younger brother. "I will make my own destiny. I will marry whoever my father tells me to marry but I won't conform to the life of a simple lady of the household who idly sits by, praying for her husband's safe return."

"Goodness gracious, Mary and Joseph. You will be another Isabella."

Matilda's grin faded. She became serious again. "Far from it, Al. Elizabeth of York."

"You're sneakier than I imagined." Alfred said. Their father never failed to mention his mother, a woman whose ambition wasn't grander than Henry VII or Margaret Beaufort but who was equally committed to the perseveration of her husband's dynasty. There was nothing she would not have done to protect their legacy. Having lived through penury, shame and other endless tragedy, including the besmirching of her mother, Edward IV's eldest daughter understood that the only way she could help her husband was by adopting a submissive stance. A devoted mother, Christian, wife and silent consort who was the living representation of everything English men wished to see in a consort. Likewise, Matilda's success would rely on tradition and public submission to her husband; her apparent docile nature would turn her husband into her greatest ally. When that happened, he'd go from being a lowly prince to a mighty one. And it will be all thanks to me but no one will live long enough to see it because unlike mother dearest, I don't care what history thinks of me. Legacy and dynasty are everything.

"I suppose he's already discussed what other mindless princess he has in store for me?"

"Eager to marry?" Matilda playfully asked.

"Not in the slightest. But, if we want to succeed undermining our mother's favorite and all of our father's rivals, it's necessary that I do. Preferrably a nobody like you."

"If Will never has a son, people will choose you over our niece. It is imperative that you marry well. Who better than the daughter of a powerful Christian King or Duke to help you overthrow Elizabeth?"

"They do not want to have me and I do not want their company. Besides, I do not need any of those simple minded, vainglorious royals to get what I want." Alfred said.

“Out of all the princesses then, the ones you think my father should choose for me since we’ve established the throne will pass to me should our gifted brother not give this dynasty a male heir to preserve the family name, do you think is right for moa?”

Matilda chuckled. William was, as Al said, gifted. But so dull. Terribly dull. It was always philosophy, theology, history, and talk of military battles. The only time people saw him loose and gay was during feasts. The Prince and Princess of Wales were real show-stealers. There wasn’t a time when Anne didn’t take the spotlight or her husband outshined his father, especially now. With the Queen taking a back seat in court functions and the King being more invested in foreign affairs and the inner strife occurring in the North of England, it fell unto Anne and William to play the role of host and hostess. And what hosts they were! People always complimented, with servant, from high to low, thanking the Lord daily for serving the future King and his merry wife.

Aside from that though, his good humor was reserved for his immediate family. It was extremely rare to see the Prince of Wales boast vulgarly of his affairs or his hunting prizes. He considered it a lack of virtue and a dangerous indulgence of vices that in his own words ‘lead to a man’s destruction.’ Matilda resisted the urge to roll her eyes every time her brother said this. What good is wearing a crown if you are not going to indulge in life’s greatest passions? Her father was a serious man, so was his father who ruled before him, the great Henry VII. They succeeded where their predecessors, including the usurper Richard III, failed, which made them two of the wisest rulers that had ever ruled England. But even they remained open to courtly pleasures. Simple, innocent fun which prevented many from falling down the rabbit hole of hedonism and uncensored vice.

 _I’d be surprised if William or Anne know the difference between both._ Anne deemed herself ‘the most happy.’ But behind closed door, she was a strict and harsh mistress. Some of Matilda’s ladies who’d previously served the Princess of Wales, begged their parents to intercede on their behalf to the Queen so she could convince the King to serve her instead. They told Matilda about the inner workings of the Princess of Wales’ household. When she wasn’t throwing parties, masques or celebrating her husband’s hunting prizes, she ordered her ladies to spend their spare time reading the bible or other religious books. On the first day of service, she laid out the rules, explicitly detailing that no indiscretion would be tolerated. Anyone who was caught fooling around or engaging in forbidden past times would be immediately dismissed. Her older sister and one of her cousins were the first ones to prove her correct. After that, nobody dared to go against their royal mistress’ will.

A Consort-in-training. _It speaks volumes when upper class commoner women and low noblewomen behave in that manner._ Those who weren’t royalty but were married to it always had something to prove. Regardless of how hard they tried or how much praise they’ve got though, they’d never be part of their world.

Anne knew it. But like Matilda’s ancestor, Elizabeth Wydeville, her sister-in-law, was good at conning herself as she was at conning everyone else.

The two of them were a match made in heaven. William, the virtuous warrior and Anne, the fun, pious mistress. It was like a fairy tale –a courtly love that blossomed into something more. Anne and William exploited people’s perception of them, indirectly funding scholars, artists, playwrights, and other renowned men to extol them. Thus preparing their future subjects for their golden reign.

“If I were King … “ Matilda trailed off. The thought was so appealing. Queen Matilda. _Succeeding where my namesake failed. If only …_ “I would choose from the ancient House of Aviz.”

“What a surprise. Same old, same old.”

Matilda ignored his sarcasm. “If they refuse, then our hardened Christian brethren in the East.”

“An Eastern European Princess.” Al pondered. He shrugged. “I guess it can work but, when we are praising Peter, is she going to sing praises to St. Paul instead?”

“Don’t be a smart mouth. Not all of them follow the Orthodox Church. Some are loyal to Rome while others have shown interest in the latest Protestant trends.”

“So that is your strategy. Brilliant but you forget that if everyone in England has been evangelized by our brother’s wife by the time Will becomes King, they, even the staunch Catholics, are going to prefer Anne over a foreigner.”

“They took to our mother right away.”

“That was different. She was more English than anyone expected.”

“Make your wife more English than Anne then.” Matilda said. “It is so simple, Al but you men always make things so difficult. Anne spend many years in France, even Aunt Mary who was there for what? A year or two, didn’t come back too French. If I were you, I would use that to my advantage but that’s just me of course. You do things your way.”

The seeds of discord that Matilda had planted in her younger brother’s head began to sprout. His older sister was right. Why wait so long? Why not act now? His father favored Matilda. All he needed to do was wait and once his father came to the conclusion that marrying him to one of those _obscure_ Princess was the best choice, he’d start right away writing to his betrothed, winning her over with his words, encouraging her to learn everything there was to learn about England so when she came, the people weren’t taken aback by her stranger ways.

* * *

The emperor had been furious when he found out about his aunt's secret. It wasn't enough he and his wife, Isabel, had put their reputations on the line for her. Especially Isabel. She convinced him not to abandon their aunt and take advantage of the pope's captivity in case Arthur thought of the unthinkable. Thankfully that never happened.

He wrote to the current imperial ambassador in England. Do whatever you must ... Ensure that the dignity of my ancestors is not compromised by my aunt's sinful attitude.

The imperial ambassador sent a quick reply which reached Antoine Perrenot de Granvelle, Bishop of Arras first. The cunning counterreformist made the imperial ambassador's message known to his Imperial Majesty. Charles V's response was the same as before. Whatever my aunt has done, push her sin away from the greatness that is reserved for the trueborn and well-born sons and daughters of devout Christians.

The imperial ambassador watched as the Queen's face turned pale. She had lost her nephew's support and for once, she could not rely on any of her nieces to speak on her behalf.

"What will become of the rest ..." Catherine could not bring herself to say it. It had been a sin but one she was unrepetant for. She prayed the rosary daily, asking before the end of her prayers for her soul, so that God might forgive her transgression and be lenient towards her flesh and blood.

"The sins of the father and mother must not be visisted until their child. 

"... My sins are the result of my weakness."

"His Imperial Majesty feels your pain but for politics' sake, the Emperor asks that you try harder rather than having to humiliate yourself again to the King, your husband."

"I am well aware of my sins, excellency. I do not need to be constantly reminded as if I were a child." Catherine said sharply, turning her back to him.

"With all due respect, Madame, your behavior says otherwise."

His excellency's jarring words made Catherine violently turn. Her eyes, like the tip of two poisoned arrows, were centered on him. This was not the Queen of Hearts that people cheered for on the streets. This was the daughter of Isabella and Ferdinand, the Catholic warrior Kings of Castile and Aragon who waged war against the Infidels and won. Catherine was about to do the same, unleashing hell on this man.

"I am Catalia de Aragon y Castilla, the daughter of Isabel y Fernando. The Emperor's favorite aunt. I brought the bloodstained coat of James IV to my husband who was playing the fool with his brother, the Duke of York, in France so he'd have something to show off because he alone, can't be expected to take command of huge armies. I have done more for this country than most of its Kings, including my husband and his father, God rest his soul. Whatever my sins are, God shall judge me for them. Have you and your master not thought that perhaps it was He who crossed our paths, Harry's and mine?"

"Su Alteza, God would never allow-"

"Who are you to say what God would and not allow. Men are fallible, including men from God. You claim you hear voices from the Almighty but so high you've placed yourself in a pedestal that you've forgotten that God's message is about action rather than showing off your faith -if you still have any."

"You speak heresy, Madame. If the Emperor were to hear of this-"

"The Emperor has more pressing matters. Luther, and all those other zealots; they are the heretics. Not me. I have been true to the Catholic doctrine, my faith is what has given me strength and kept me sane in these trying times. If my nephew can't see that then perhaps his wife will since she is the one who rules Spain in his absence. Perhaps it is she who should wear the crown and he go back to his German territories. Nothing he's done has shown that he's committed to Spain's well-being." Catherine said brusquely.

The imperial ambassador held his tongue. The Queen was hurt. She had been cast out of Eden and into the wilderness for her indiscretion. Her anger would pass. When it did, he'd return to visit her. Hopefully by then, she showed more common sense.

Catherine watched the ambassador go. Her gaze followed him even as he stepped into the carriage. Good riddance. She did not need her nephew's mouthpiece to give her a moralistic sermon. All of them know so little. _They think they can intimidate me with their fancy words._ Compared to hers, their diction was poor. Catherine always had an answer for everything because she knew that as long as she held on to her faith, nothing could break her.

If her nephew insisted on  _'taknig care'_ of that problem before it became public, Catherine would see the Lord have His vengeance on him. _He gives us the tools and the means to achieve our goals._ Catherine's fearless nature gave her the upper hand. She'd not hesitate to use the tools that God had put on her path to defend those she loved and keep them safe.


	9. Hidden and Patient

**1533**

Though slightly darker than her siblings, her two eyes were like two pools whose violent waters could sink any ship. There was no mistaking it. She was her father's daughter. _My, my. How did I not see it?_

Far swifter than her unacknowledged father, Mary shook her head violently. "No."

 "Do you hear that sister? It's the sound of clapping." Matilda mocked clapped. "At moa and Alfred when you speak on our behalf with you dummy husband backing you."

Mary smirked. "A letter and nothing more. That's all you and the Spanish ambassador have while mother has the Regent and dozen other women of common sense in her side."

"Common sense is terribly overrated." Matilda took a step forward. "But you're right." Next to her was a stool made of the finest wood with metallic engravings of the letter 'C' & 'A'intertwined in the middle of the Tudor rose. On it rested a nearly burnt out candle and her younger sister's bible. 

Seeing Mary's bewildered look, Matilda chuckled. She put out the burning the letter after she threw it on the floor by stomping on it. "If I wanted to pull a Richard III on you I wouldn't have just fine ahead and done it." Matilda said in a matter-of-fact way. 

Matilda put both hands on her hips. "Let's cut straight to the chase, shall we?"

"What do you want?"

"You have something I want and I have father's ear. It's simple logic. The French King wants to marry his second son to you instead of that insipid Italian. Only if you deny your union to Philip -"

"Which you know I won't." Mary said sharply. What was the point of al of this? Matilda, as their father, knew that she was never going to set Philip aside for some stuck up, dependable prince. 

Mary remembered Henry Philippe from when she was four. She had offered to kiss him. He was openly disgusted by it. After he broke free of her embrace, he asked his mother for a handkerchief to que his face. Everyone thought it was cute except for her. Angry by his rejection, she quickly retaliated. Mary pushed him with such force that he fell on his back. 

Everyone minus her uncle chided her.  _"It's unbecoming of a Princess. Hidden and patient. If she must be. Humble and penitent before everyone, lest she wishes to let others soil her honor. "_

Her mother was subtler but was still dismayed by her actions.  _You should've seen it then._ -She berated herself. The way his face beamed after she held her ground and refused to apologize.  _It was so obvious even a blind man could see it._

The truth had been hidden in plain sight.

_But everyone was so preoccupied with court affairs to entertain the thought that their Queen had opened her heart to the King's brother._

And why would they when such a thing was unfathomable from the woman whose mother was the most pious and faithful Queen that ever lived?

Humble and Loyal. That was her mother's motto. What a joke it all was. 

Coming back to the present, Mary added that nothing Matilda was proposing was new. "If that's what father intends for me, I am not naive. Either the parliament or the pope or both will annul my marriage. In which case I prefer to spend the rest of my life as a spinster."

"You're close but not close enough. You have a warrior's heart but I have a contemplative one. " Matilda said. "Your father is going to marry the Duke of Cleves' daughter -"

"He's not my father." Mary interrupted.

"He is. Accept it and let's get this over with it." Matilda said harshly. "He's going to marry her and when he does, your beloved Philip will be sent back to Bavaria where he will spend the rest of his days battling his sorrow by throwing himself into conflict yet again with the Turks. Only this time, he is going to receive a posthumous medal when he comes back in a box."

 Mary glared at her sister. If looks could kill, Matilda would already be dead. But Matilda was a Tudor. Tudors were well known for their resilience, cunning, and ingenuity whereas the Plantagenets were better known for being slaves to their passions.

For a moment, Matilda felt pity for her sister. So bright but so rebellious. A self righteous spirit with the heart of a warrior and the head of a saint. In another life, she would have made a great warring saint, like the ones in the early days of the church.

_God sure has a sick sense of humor._

"Unless you and I work together."

"How? You already have everything sorted out. "

"Not quite." Matilda said. "Two months from now you'll marry him. If you give yourself fully to him, father will have no choice but to turn down King Francis' offer. "

Mary cringed at the suggestion.

"You've already opened your heart to him, you'd just make it official. You're already his legal wife. "

"It's a sin."

"When the usurper assumed the throne, everyone overlooked his wife's first union and that the papal dispensation for their union came after their son was born. Our grandparents, the Catholic Kings, married under a false bull. No one cared until it was important and it's no longer relevant because of what they achieved. "

"Meaning?"

"Everything is forgiven when he does great works in God's name." Matilda answered. "It's winter, sister. A spring baby is always a good omen."

* * *

Alfred welcomed his sister's company after an hour of boring sermons from their older brother. _Being P_ _rince of Wales doesn't give him the right to badge into any room any time he pleases._ Alfred loved Richmond because usually when he and Matilda visited, their brother was elsewhere.

He had Anne Boleyn to think for that. One harmless flirtation with her cousin had sent her off the rails. If it wasn't for Wolsey's secretary, Anne would have been here too, standing next to his brother like the vengeful goddess, Hera.

_May God have mercy on our souls when Will becomes King._ He mentally crossed himself. It was a horrifying future that awaited them. A powerless, impotent Zeus ruled by that ruthless matron.

_Matilda better bring me good news from our sister's chamber; otherwise, I'll have to attend mass again and confess my sins to the Almighty._

There were many things he couldn't do while his brother and sister-in-law were here, but others he still could. Albeit, less frequently.

Thankfully, his sister's tales of her exploits proved satisfactory.

"And our godly sister believed you?"

"Of course not. Mary is never going to trust me after this and I will be disappointed if she ever does."

"Why all the facade then?" Alfred queried.

"I am not in the position to accept everything. I know what I did and when I die and find myself before st. Peter, I'll gladly accept whatever punishment comes my way but so must he. "

Alfred didn't need to ask whom she meant. It was clear by the sudden change in her voice.

"So this was all one big revenge plot."

Alfred smirked. He leaned back in his cushioned chair. 

"By God almighty, they say it skips a generation or two but you my dear sister are a worthy heiress of bitch hell hounds, Margaret Beaufort and Elizabeth Woodville. "

"Empress Matilda." Matilda corrected. 

Alfred grinned. "And not humble at all. The people of France know not what awaits them. "

"Woe to that kingdom." Matilda said with mock concern. "And every other kingdom who's crossed paths with us."

Matilda's eyes sparkled with ambition. Alfred saw because Matilda let him see. Matilda was a pawn but unlike any other pawn, she was a higher pawn who knew the rules of the chessboard better than the other players.

"And now that you've convinced Eve to bite the forbidden fruit, what is left for me? "

"The devil's tricks don't work on experienced sinners and besides, why so much in a hurry to say 'I do'?"

Alfred shrugged. "Boredom. Competitive strike, everyone's getting married and I'll still be single. Call it what you like. I don't want to feel left out. "

"Patience, Al. Good things come to those who wait."

* * *

The day came when Anne and her cousin Philip arrived. Henry remained unimpressed. Mary on the other hand felt like she knew Philip for a long time.

His first visit had been brief. This time, he and his cousin had come here to stay. 

In spite of the unpleasantness he felt towards his future wife, Henry hadn't failed to notice how distant Mary was to him. When he asked what was wrong, she changed the subject.

He wondered if she knew.

Did Arthur tell her? Did Catherine?

Henry resolved to put this matter to rest by focusing on the matter at hand. 

He was going to indulge Arthur and play his little game so when enough time passed and he let his guard down, he'd strike. _And when that moment comes, I'll take what's rightfully mind._


	10. Blood isn't thicker than water

**1533**

There were many things that prevented the Duke of York from thinking clearly and elaborating a cohesive plan that would bring about the destruction of everything his brother held dear. One of them was not a thing but a person. As long as she was being watched, Henry could not enact the next phase of his plan. His bishops were guarded by Arthur's own knights and bishops.

Yet, as his former tutor had warned Wolsey. Once the lion knows his own strength, no man could contain him. Arthur had gotten so used to playing the role of the impartial, prudent king that it was almost impossible for him to consider doing something that would go against his own principles. His brother couldn't afford doing anything that would unmask him to the public, revealing that he was nothing more than a scared, pathetic fellow whose existence was an insult to all of England's past warrior kings whose victories had sowed fear in their enemies' hearts and earned them the love and admiration of their subjects.

Henry was a second son. It was a cruel jape that God had played on him. But one which had remedy. Just as Mary. After he played the part of the courteous host, he excused himself from their chamber and went to Mary's.

Elsa Bolanos, the daughter of one of the few remaining Spanish ladies that had not been dismissed from Catherine's household, announced his presence to her royal mistress. Mary thanked, dismissively waving her hand after she bid her goodnight.

"Poor woman. She cries every time you give her that gesture."

"Every one of my maids sings nothing but praises of me. How much do they mean it, is a mystery. The court is a nest of vipers. It is so hard to discern who is being truthful and who's a liar." Mary stated. "Except with Elsa. I cannot tell why but she has always been honest, even when our mothers have not always been the best of friends."

"Hardship makes strange bedfellows." Henry said. He was aware of the struggles many converted Jews, primarily in Castile, Catherine's mother's kingdom, went through. Although he had always been very defensive when it came to Catherine, he couldn't blame the youngest of her maids, for being resentful of Isabella's daughter.   
"After your mother nearly had a miscarriage, there was Mistress Clara, along with the army of midwives surrounding her bed, commanding them and the physician to brew one of her special potions so your mother could deliver you."

"I never questioned why my mother would be so desperate to restort to look elsewhere for help when she always regarded conversos as no better than the Moors, except for Lina. But now I know."

"Arthur told you." It wasn't a question. Who else could it be if not his brother? _I will use this to intensify my hatred for him._ Hatred made him stronger, it strengthened his resolve and cleared all doubts from his head, should he suddenly have any regrets or doubts about whether or not was just.

Mary surprised her uncle by revealing it was her older sister - _no!_ Her mind racked. Half-sister. She had to get used to think of Matilda as such. But how? The older sister who had raced her in the gardens, played hide-and-seek and always knew what gift her for Christmas. _You're not going to get anywhere feeling pity for yourself. The girl you loved and could rely on is gone._  
Her subconsciense was right, but in spite of the hurt Matilda had caused her, she was still her sister. _My flesh and blood._ Her subconscience's response was crude laughter. _Do you think your sister cares about your childhood bond? When you're no longer useful she will use whatever she has on you and your mother to benefit her and your father._

Once again, right. But a part of her still held on to hope. 

When she finished telling her uncle of her conversation with Matilda, Henry gave a cold laugh. "I always suspected something was amiss about that girl."

"Woman. Matilda would hate it if she heard you calling her a girl. She sees herself as a Princess higher than anyone else. I only went along with her plan because she wants a crown and a stupid husband she can control more than anything else. The thought of her having to hold a sword or defend a fort would break her doll spirit."

"You should show her what you are made of." Henry said. He wished he could tell his daughter, now that she knew the truth about her parentage, what he planned to do to the King. This is much her gain as it is mine. But Mary had a warrior's spirit more than a cunning politician's spirit. He risked losing her love and that was something he did not want to happen.

"And do what afterwards? Gloat?" Mary snapped. "She wants the best to show off, she can have them. Philip and I will have a good life and she will have a glamorous one. She won't regret it until it is too late and by then, there will be no one left for her to use except a bunch of useless sychophants."

Henry smirked. That was a good mental image his daughter gave him. Matilda, the proud, vain shadow queen, holding on to power until her husband's dying breath. _What a sordid but amusing prospect and a fitting fate for someone so pretentious._

"The greatest sinners, sin because they become obsessed with what they don't have. It is a tale as old as time. Cain wanted to be like Abel so he killed his brother and God branded him with a mark so hideous that everyone who saw it, knew instantly what he'd done. Your sister will never be so brave, pure or beautiful as you. That awareness has made her jealous and that jealousy has festered, turning her ugly on the inside as well."

"Matilda isnt ugly." Mary defended. Her sister wasn't an outstanding beauty but she was far from ugly.

Henry however disagreed.

"Take a really good look at her and ask yourself why she had to humiliate herself -because going to you, for her, that is a humiliation- so she could be the one who marries the Duke of Orleans? Any nobleman would sell his soul to the devil to be her husband, maybe her lover but a royal? Never. Why settle for bronze when they could have gold?"

"A Princess who is not really a princess." Mary said. Although her tone showed no emotion, her eyes showed Henry the disappointment she felt towards him and her mother.

"Were you ever going to tell me you were my father? Did you and my mother ever discuss it?"

"We did. Not many but we did but there was always something else coming up and at the time, your mother's relationship with Arthur was getting worse so we decided it was better not to see each other until we did and the rest, you know."

There was a moment of silence. This time, it was Mary who broke it. "Anne is a good lady."

"Many believe so too." Henry was certain that his daughter's husband, the Duke of Bavaria, had convinced her of his cousin's _superlative grace._  

"She is not my mother but she has a good heart and she means well." Henry was unfazed by this. Mary sighed. "If not for her, at least for England. Who knows if England will get to renew its old alliances. If they do, until that happens, Cleves, Bavaria and those small duchies are all we have to counter the Holy League."

Hearing the heavy footstalls of Philip, Henry left before the Duke came to his wife's chambers. Upon returning to his own, he found Anne already asleep.

Mary's words weighed heavily on him. Arthur was not a holy man, much less a man with the guts with deliver justice by his own hands. He always relied on someone else to do his dirty work. A true King doesn't need to give in more than he should to impoverished duchies. They should be the ones groveling before us and not the other way around. Anne, daughter of Cleves, had come with a miserable dowry and could barely speak English.

If it wasn't for her cousin, Henry would be working for ways to annul both unions. She doesn't know how fortunate she is. Love was a luxury few royals could afford. Or perhaps she does. It dawned on Henry that Mary would never have allowed to be part of Matilda's machinations if she wasn't certain that Philip was the man who was right for her.

For someone like Mary, it wasn't enough that she was paired with someone equal in looks, wealth and status. She was a descendant of conquerors who had grown up enamoured with tales of warrior kings and queens, and valiant knights. After she heard of Philip being awarded the order of the golden fleece, she knew that she could have no one else by her side but him. 

Taking off his boots, taking off his outer garments, he then proceeded to snuff out the light from the dying candles. Quietly, not to wake his wife up, he got underneath the covers of their bed.

He let his mind wander to other possibilities. If Arthur had never existed, he would be the one married who would've married Catherine. They would be the ones having adventures with a craddle full of princes and princesses who'd take after them in looks and valor. _"Anne is a good lady."_ Turning to Anne whose back was turned to him, Henry thought of the first time he laid with Catherine.  
Anne wasn't Catherine but she was dutiful and that was all Henry needed in a wife. His dream of a bright future for England would live on through him. Even without Catherine as his wife, he was still going to have her with him. After he became king, he was going to let Arthur live long enough to see everything he once owned and loved become his.


	11. The Daughter of Truth Rises

**Windsor Palace,**   
**Yuletide, 1533**

It was the best of times for the cold hearted King in the south of England, anticipating the birth of our savior, Jesus Christ, in the comfortable confines of Westminster Palace while a small portion of his court was not so far away in East, in Berkshire, at Windsor Palace, waiting anxiously for the newlyweds to emerge from their marriage chamber.

Young men placed bets on how hard the rigid Cleves woman had been ridden by their Duke of York. While the women giggled as they gossiped how disappointed the Duke ahd been when he saw her.

"I like her not. He said over and over until the German told two of her ladies she wanted her family with her so they can convince him, she'd be a good wife." One of the Duchess of York's new ladies said.

"Hush, lady Seymour." Dorothy Seymour, the oddity in her family with her dark brown hair and black eyes, apologized to Princess Matilda. "The rest of you should keep your opinions when you are alone."

"But Your Highness, the German women are with her every time." Another one of the Duchess' ladies said. "Timid creatures like her. Strong voices but no strong will, as soon as you talk back, they will back away like scared cows." The Duchess of York's ladies along with Matilda's ladies laughed louder.

Matilda let them enjoy it. Everyone grew quiet when they heard heavy footstalls. Much to their disappointment, it was the Duke's youngest nephew, Prince Alfred.

"You are early." Matilda said as he sat next to her. "Two minstrels and plays and our uncle and new aunt still haven't shown their faces. Maybe this is the Christmas miracle everyone prayed for."

"Everyone who isn't us." Al said. "Hilda, the only one of her train who isn't royal was warming my bed all night, teaching me all there is to know about Cleves."

"I bet." Matilda said, holding back her laughter.

"I am being serious, sis. Her mistress is still a maiden untouched by man."

"God be praised." Matilda said, relieved.

"It is easy to navigate this court when you have a special tutor like Sir Thomas More.” Al murmured to his sister. "If a lion knows his own strength, no man can control him. Only flaw in his line of logic is that a dragon is stronger and possess more self-control than a kitten."

“Not so loud.” Cautioned Matilda.

“I wasn’t being loud.” He protested. Before he could utter another word, she shut him down.

“Your face speak louder than your words, and if you speak sweetly but your face gives away everything, you might as well speak plainly.” Matilda said tartly.

Al rolled his eyes. He didn’t care what people thought of him. He was the second son after all.

“Do not be so impertinent. One more mistake on your part and you’ll waste your chance at charming Flanders’ mare.” Al smirked at that. Matilda glared at that. Now it was his turn to speak first. “A woman who speaks like a child and coddles the poor like they are mindless fools and you my sister, so coy and cordial –too cordial, to be bothered with matters of the heart when you have your own betrothal to worry about- and last but not least, a distant Prince of Wales and his beloved wife and daughter, and our holier-than-thou sister. From where else will our German Princess get comfort from if not from me?”

“If you weren’t so cheeky, I’d praise you.” Matilda said, slightly disappointed that her brother had proved her wrong _. Oh well, he is a Tudor after all_. _Whatever York and hot Spanish blood he has flowing through his veins, it has been diluted by our Tudor forebears’ Welsh bloodline._

Their uncle came into the scene, visibly not happy with last night’s bedding. Everyone had blessed the marriage bed and said “amen” after the group praying had ended, except for him. “Poor uncle Henry, so handsome but so terribly wasted on a dastardly woman.”

“Careful, Al. Tudors hear and see everything, even the last ones to the finish line.” Matilda reminded him.

“No need to warn me a second time, sis. York’s sun is nothing compared to the might of the red dragon’s offspring.” Al winked at her. He waited for his uncle and his German bride to take their seats next to them. Anna on Matilda’s left side and their uncle, Henry, Duke of York, on Alfred’s right side.

“Had a good night sleep, uncle?” Al asked. When Henry didn’t respond right away, he turned to Anna who was in deep conversation with Matilda. “Was the German Valkyrie too much to handle?” He asked, upon returning his glance back to his uncle.

“Bold as brass and ill-mannered as always. Two months in the Highlands hasn’t made you more refined.”

“Refined.” He said, mocking the haughty accent of his father’s Francophile courtiers. “Too much perfumed courtiers who care more about their primed appearance than the welfare of their common peers.”

Henry held back his tongue. There was a time when he was like him. Young, cocky and stupid. “First impressions are everything, nephew. Lippy service, arse licking, booth licking; the world is built on favors or keeping someone’s good company.” He lowered his tone. “Don’t think I do not know what game you are playing.”

“Me? Why uncle, you mistake me for a Judas-“

“Cut your foolish pretense. I am not a woman and neither are you one who can manipulate others at her whim, and smile shamelessly like the whore she is.” Henry blatantly said. He moved his head forward, tilting it slightly in his wife’s direction. “Bed her, love her if your obsession with the flesh is such that you’re willing to debase yourself with the lowest of the low. I mean it. But don’t think you will have my blessing to steal my wife so you and your father can shame me.

God, Almighty in Heaven. The word just rolled from the tip of his tongue. His wife. _Of all the ugly and plain-looking women, I had to be married to the plainest of them all._ The Cleves woman had no personality. Catherine had abstained from writing to him because she knew what it would mean for both. But if she could, she would have. He pictured her arriving at the right moment. Right after Fisher asked if there was any objection. Bursting into the chapel where Henry’s York grandparents, Edward IV and Elizabeth Woodville were buried, she would have unabashedly voiced her opposition and like her crusading parents, unleashed her swords on anyone who stood in her way.  
Catherine wasn’t a mystery but many preferred her to be. How could they when they prefer their brainless courtly roses over an ardent warrior? Catherine was cloaked in humility. Her faith was her armour, her pride her shield, her beauty an allure for both men and women, and her wit the sword which she fearlessly used to cut down lesser men. But behind those strenghts lay a weakness that in the hands of the advantageous and power-hungry could mean the destruction of an entire kingdom.

"I do not settle for less, uncle. Ugly women, beautiful women. It is all in the eye of the beholder. Love turns ugly ducklings into swans." Henry chuckled. "Laugh all you want uncle. What's devotion from Aphrodite whose charm turns men into slaves and women into admirers and punching bags. An ugly woman can be beautiful but so used to her ugliness, will never be confident unless she is next to the man who nourishes her with love and care. Like a flower, she will flourish into something wondrous, but still be dependant on the sun and water to survive." He smiled sardonically at his uncle. "I will heed your advice uncle. Do not worry. I am no Judas but neither am I obedient."

"You should be. Your father and I grew under the thumb of a man who delighted in reminding us how less we were than him but never, did we raise one finger against him. Even when we fought, we agreed that in front of our father, we would always held our heads up high and down when need be, because he was our elder and every bit worthy of our respect."

"Which you are not." Alfred said boldly. 

Henry's gaze darkened. "Watch your tongue boy. If your father were here, he'd order his guards to box your ears until you became deaf."

"He isn't and if you tell, it will be your word against mine. So let's smile and pretend we are one happy family, shan't we?" He poured more wine in his uncle's cup. "Here, uncle. This is a strong brew. It will make you see mother's face instead of your delicate wife."

If looks could kill, Alfred would be dead on the spot. God damn him and his siblings. The only thing that had come from Catherine's womb was their daughter and even she was tainted by her siblings' smugness.

* * *

**Pembroke Castle, March 1534**

Mary asked Philip if he had spent more time with his cousin Anna as he promised he would. "You know I cannot make time for her as I can for you." Philip said. "She is well guarded and forgive me for saying this, your brother reckless' behavior has made it even more impossible."

"Stupid boy! Matilda has alwasy thought herself the highest of all ladies. She wants it all, Philip. She and Al are colluding with father, I know it." She sat on their bed. "I have begged him to leave her alone but he insists on punish her and Matilda makes things worse. She is a snake."

Philip didn't contradict her there. From his first visit to England, he was unnerved by Matilda. Though it wasn't just her. All the women in Mary's family scared him. And he was a man who wasn't easily scared. He had seen Infidels swinging slaughtering Christians and kidnapping girls and boys to sell them as slaves. But even the subjugated were left with a glimmer hope (vain as it was) that one day they'd be delivered from bondgae. Tudor women offered no such thing. The sigh of a seeing their enemies trampled by the soles of their shoes was not enough to satiate their thirst for revenge. 

One only had to look at Mary's mother. Technically not a Tudor, but like them, she had Plantagenet blood coursing through her veins. And what were the Plantagenets if not merciless?

Under a veil of humility, the greatest actress that ever wore the crown of St. Edith, the people mistook the Spanish Infanta's hypocrisy for religiosity. There never was a woman more conniving than her. She put Jezebel and all the other biblical temptress to shame.

_Why does Mary worship her and Matilda despise her?_

It made no sense to Philip.

Mary was her complete opposite while Matilda was a worthy heiress to the Spanish Infanta's sly nature. 

"The eyes of reason seldom see when blindfolded by maiden's hearts." Philip said, quoting from a passage Mary had written in the last page of her psalter. 

Mary crossed her arms. "Of all the maidens he can think of deflowering, he fixates on her. Tell me that at least you can send a message through one of her ladies." Pleaded Mary. Seeing Philip's expression, she added, "Adelaide trusts you and she trusts her."

Philip sighed. He hated making promises he couldn't keep. "She won't be enough to drive Anna's attention away from your brother."

"She must. You do not know Al and Matilda. They stop at nothing to get what they want."

"Hell will freeze over before Anna breaks her sacred vows. My cousin loves England. The people, its customs. She told me she never felt free." Philip said. "Regardless," he continued, "of how touched she is by your brother's affections, she put her duty above her own wants."

Mary silently prayed that night that Anna remained mindful of her warnings. The last time Mary saw the duchess of York, she confessed to Mary that she never felt so unloved but that like Philip had told her, she would never trade her life in England for another day in Cleves. In broken English, she told her all about growing up in Cleves. Always the black sheep, never good enough for anyone except her father. When he grew ill, everyone braces for the worst. Her brother was a good leader whose dilligence had won him his subjects' respects. Yet, his love of country did not extend to his family -whom he saw as pawns. Anna prayed day and night for God to guide the King of England's hand and choose her from among her and her sister, so she wouldn't live the rest of her days as an object of pity.

My father should not treat her so unkindly. Anna was not a royal scholar like the women in Mary's family but in her own way, the duchess of York possessed a strength which rivaled theirs. _If God hears my prayers, I promise you that I will never speak ill of any of my siblings and be more mindful of your teachings and live every day as St. Dominic's venerable mother, St. Joan of Aza._

Burned as a heretic but now worshiped as a saint, there was nothing Mary wanted more than to be a warrior maiden like Joan of Arc. A sword in her hand and a golden breast plate covering her chest. Seldom do we get what we want. Joan was chosen by God to lead the French against the English. Human hubris, corruption, and greed led to her capture which ended in her fiery death.   
Mary's childhood vision of a blood-red haired warrior maiden would come true in the form of another. In spite of accepting the truth about her parentage, Mary still refused to see herself as anything other than a true Princess.

Mary didn't care who fathered her. Arthur II was her true father. In the eyes of the law, she was the King's daughter, conceived during his holy union to her mother. Nobody could convince her otherwise. I am Mary Tudor and as the King's trueborn daughter, I have a sacred duty to help him maintain his house in order. Matilda was right when she warned Mary that if she told their father about what she and Alfred were doing, he'd laugh in her face. Mary was their mother's favorite and Matilda, their father's. Mary had to act smarter. Lying was easy to Matilda. That was why she was always one step ahead but in her short time of being victim to truth, Mary had found a force far more potent.

Mary blew out her candles. Philip could not see her smile but he felt her less tense. "Adelaide will be running an errand for Anna," Philip said, "and she is bringing with her a fine present from my cousin. Are you listening?" He asked when she didn't answer immediately. Mary always had an answer for everything. Her mind was fast as her tongue.

A smile appeared. Mary's newfound confidence led her to the following response: "My fathere is not going to reconsider extending mercy to the next in-law."

Philip repeated what he had said earlier, adding less dramatically, "As contrary as this sounds, the years of mockery have made her deeply insecure but that insecurity has also made her mindful. Whatever she feels for William, is offset by her fear of being accused of adultery and sent back to Cleves."

"You really think that her sense of duty is enough to trump over Tudor ambition?"

"Yes. You worry over nothing. Everything will be fine, I promise you." Philip was no longer uncertain of breaking his promise. Adelaide's letter had brought him great relief. She informed him that his cousin prayed endlessly for guidance. Rather than breaking her, Henry Tudor's mocking became the perfect excuse to create her own little court where she was free to dance, gossip and indulge in other harmless entertainments.

Mary didn't respond with an affirmation. Rather, she twisted her head and whispered something lovingly in his ear. Mary's tone and her body closer to his, made him forget his train of thought.

 _Lies brought nothing but misery. Whatever good they bring, it never lasts. Let Matilda play the game of power the best way she knows how: lying and cheating. I shall have truth to guide me._ The truth on the other hand, could be used in various ways. In Mary's hands, the truth was a far more dangerous weapon than any wielded by any warrior.


	12. Our Words Shall be our Swords

**Winter 1534, Southern England**

An angry Mary was an understatement. She was furious. “You have done it this time, Matilda.” Nobody reprimanded her before when she burst into her mother’s chambers. She was the queen’s favorite so nobody ever dared said ‘no’. This time however was different. With the Queen fallen out of grace, the role of the favored princess was occupied by Matilda.

Matilda was untroubled by her sister’s admonition. Following the dismissal of her father’s less contributing courtiers, she became his queen in all but name. The most prominent courtiers whispered among themselves. Some pretending to be discreet, raising their whispers whenever the queen’s pearl passed them while others practicing true discretion. All of them agreed that there was never a more gracious hostess than the king’s eldest daughter.

Matilda relished power. This however, being loved, feared and respected all at once, was intoxicating.

“Of all the times you could have disrupted my prayers, you choose this of all days. May Day. Seriously sister. When we were young, you tormented throwing food at my face, mocking me for being too much of a rose. And now look at us. How the roles have been reversed.”

“We are still the same, Matilda. The only difference is that you fill a vacant spot of a king who can’t live without a consort by his side.”

“I am more than his shadow queen, sister. I am father’s favorite princess and I am not in the least bit unashamed to admit that I am proud of the joy my arrogance brings me.” Matilda said. “Unbridled, pure joy and there is no sarcastic remark or insult you can say to take that away from me.”

“What is it you really want Matilda?” Mary asked her. “Do you want the throne? Is that it?”

“You insult me once again.” Matilda’s words were followed by a chuckle. Unlike Mary’s cold laughter which she used to intimidate her rivals, especially their mother’s harshest critics, Matilda’s polished manners struck a higher cord. They were the cruelest reminder of the king’s favoritism of his oldest daughter, how far above she was of everyone, including her sister.

“Some women want jewels, crown. I am content looking after father’s affairs in mother’s absence.”

“Mother is still here.” Mary reminded her. “You may give the impression to your friends that you don’t want a crown but soon they will see, when they spend enough time with you that you are no different than the man that hides beneath father’s mask.”

“Careful, Mary. Just because he is not here, means that you can speak freely.”

“Are you going to back crying to him like you did when we were children? You are right, sister, you are queen in all but name but a queen without a crown is nothing once her patron dies or leaves her with nothing and mark my words, when the king passes away, you will lose all your mighty privileges.”

“That may be so but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy while it lasts.” Matilda’s lips twisted into a playful smile. “I am not scared of your bravado anymore sister. I have bravado as well and at last after all these years of living under mother’s thumb I am finally free to bask in our dynasty’s triumph,” she quickly went to add, “a triumph I played a major part in.”

Mary looked pointedly at her sister. “Turning the Duchess of York against her lawful husband.” Mary said with disgust. “That is how you preserve the Tudor Dynasty. By showing the world that we are incapable of ruling ourselves. That is a brilliant plan, sister.”

“I told you sarcasm wasn’t going to work with me. No one in our family is the laughing stock except our mother. Anna of Cleves won’t betray her flesh to our brother but she has already sinned against her husband in her thoughts. Her heart belongs to someone else but unlike our saintly mother, she won’t act on her feelings because she knows that would jeopardize the alliance between both our kingdoms. Her loyalty to her house speaks higher than our mother’s actions.”

“Our mother stood next to our grandparents as they vanquished the Infidels and likewise, dressed up in armor when it was her chance to drive England’s enemies away from our borders. People know which consort to put their trust in.”

Matilda let out another chuckle. “You and mother think that a woman with a sword is worthy of respect. Joan of Arc, Jezebel, one a saint and the other a heathen queen. All of them have one thing in common and that is they both thought they were right. In today’s age, crowned queens are of no more value than uncrowned ones. So reproach me all you want, Mary but in the end, I will be proven right.” Matilda’s playful smile returned. “Mother is a woman who thrives on conflict. She thinks herself a saint despite the obvious. She destroys nobility as easily as she dismisses men’s wit for arrogance and mocks them for their courage.”

“You always hated her.”

“Hated her?” Matilda was slightly mad that after all this time, Mary had not figured it out. Matilda had made it obvious to her. Are you that dim-witted when it comes to our mother’s love that you can’t see that she is a shrew who will kill every good person’s soul for her own amusement? “If I were father I would have strung her from her feet and if she were still alive after two days in the blazing heat, I would have slapped her until her lips were painted red with her blood.”

“You are speaking treason!” Mary yelled. Her eyes were firing daggers at her sister.

“Treason is what she did our father and to us. Less than two years knowing the truth about that philandering man whoring brother of his and you turn back on the only father you ever knew. You know why I hate her so much, Mary? Deep down, there is a part of me that still yearns for her love but I am not stupid. I know I will never obtain it so I chose to steel my heart.” For the first time, Matilda had unmasked herself for her sister. Standing before Mary was a young woman whose cunning and dry wit had placed her one. _No!_ Two steps ahead of everyone. _Including of our own father._

“Why didn’t our father denounced her then? He could have revealed her adultery and nobody would have said a thing. May God forgive my blasphemy-“

“Oh goodness gracious, Mary. This is not the court of public opinion. No one is present to applaud your saintly devotion.” Her voice held so little warmth that it was practically dripping with venom. The hatred she’d shown earlier was still present.

“By what right do you have to tell me how to speak? Have you ever heard yourself talk, Matilda? Because I swear to the Almighty, and yes, laugh all you want. I do not care. I will speak however I like. You need help Matilda. Whatever goes through that troubled little head of yours needs to be fixed right now or else you are going to wake up one day, wretched and feeling more miserable.”

“Are you finished?”

“No. I am going to tell you why you’re wrong about everything and you are going to listen or I am going to go to father and tell him that his precious little jewel is a cowardly, hateful woman devoid of a soul.”

“And who is going to believe you? I used to be afraid of my brave little sister who dreamed of being Joan of Arc until it dawned to me. Joan of Arc was a savage. An idealist who dreamed of a world that would never be but by the end of the day, a savage who got what she deserved. Her true crime wasn’t dressing up like a man, it was thinking she was one and on top of that, a holy one whose voice was equal to God. It is a harsh world we live in. Us women. We have to make our way in the world and in between fighting and surviving, there’s always one annoying mealy-mouthed goody-two shoes who thinks that she is above the fray because she is not doe-eyed, soft spoken like our other sisters.”

Now it was Mary’s turn to laugh. “Of all the nonsense-“

Matilda did not let her sister finish. “Nonsense is you and my mother and if you still want to go to father to tell him how awful I am, go ahead. My father doesn’t have time for his father’s bastard unless she brings him something of substance because guess what, little sister? My father could care less if I betray him because I am his flesh and blood while you are just a tool who’ll soon outlive her purpose. As soon as you bring your husband a spare, he will start looking for future arrangements for his grandsons so in case something tragic were to happen to you both, he can look after their German inheritance while also searching for pleasing English wives. Your offspring will never have the pleasure of wearing armor. They will grow up to be scared little princes whose English roses will be their masters and they in turn will get to answer to a higher master, our dear brother William. Don’t feel so sad about it. What else can boys expect when they are born to a woman who thinks she is blessed by God and cares more about her husband’s longsword than the clothes she wears? Women who choose to dwell in their husbands’ domains never end well.” Her bristled tone sent chills down Mary’s spine.

Matilda was right. The emotional wounds she had been living with would have driven everyone else insane. But that’s where the Lord’s blessing came in. He works in mysterious ways. Nothing could be truer for her older sister. Matilda would not have made it this far if it weren’t for their father’s love. The King had never stood by as his daughter was being mocked. Whenever she was ignored by the Queen, the King stepped in and swung her in his arms. It didn’t matter if he was sick or busy. Arthur Tudor always had time for his shining jewel.

The young woman standing before her was a woman who had been underestimated and underappreciated by the woman by nearly everyone, except for one.

“Take pride in all of your escapades like Robin Hood and maid Marion. Songs of your exploits will be sung for decades but no one will aspire to be like you because by then, women will have learned that there is no room in this world for spitfires like you and mother.”

“You have been hurt terribly by our mother. I will never fault you for feeling betrayed but I pity you.” Mary’s heartfelt honesty was like a knife to Matilda’s heart. She clearly saw it. _See, sister? I too know how to turn my words into my weapon to cut deeper than any man-made weapon._

“I am the one who should be pitying you. You are not cut out for the life of a courtier. That is why father married you to that warring duke. After you put one more heir in the Tudor cradle, he’s going to turn his back on you just as he would to anyone who outruns his usefulness. If it weren’t for your beauty, you would have been allowed to roam free like one of those warrior princess in the lullaby mother sung to you in your sleep while I watched, waiting for her to do the same. Of the two of us, you are the one who gets the shorter end of the stick. I pity those I want to hurt the most. I don’t just want to give them one bad day, I want them to feel like their lives are so lamentable that their very existence is an insult to humanity. And yet, in spite of everything we’ve been through, I do not pity you. I guess that makes me the better person.”

“You can put words in my mouth and tell lie to yourself as many times as you please. Whatever helps you sleep at night and eases that guilty conscience. Nothing good will come out of it. The truth will win eventually. When you finally see the error of your ways I pray that it is not too late for you to be forgiven by those whom you have caused pain.”

“So you are worse than me in that respect.” Matilda allowed herself to smirk. “It is always the one who’ve placed themselves in a moral pedestal, who reserve the worst punishment for their enemies.”

“You made that happen. Instead of putting your trust in good people, you turned to the king. A man who used you –and continues to uses you- as many times as mother belittled you for his own benefit.” Mary stated. “When are you going to see him for who he truly is? He may have been the embodiment of Camelot once but that time is gone. He is a cold-hearted, conniving, ruthless man who will stop at nothing to get what he wants.”

“Kings are above personal desires.” Matilda stated. “You’ve not said anything new. Father values his loyal subjects above his disloyal ones. To him, we are nothing more than pawns on his chessboard, to use and dispose for the benefits of his true children, his countrymen. They are the ones who truly matter here. He doesn’t buy their loyalty with charity nor pretend to understand them to win their favor. He knows what they want –even if they are too timid to say it to his ministers’ faces- and gives it to them.”

“Is that so?”

“Just look around you. And I don’t mean the countryside where your tenants benefit from your presence. All around England, Wales, and Ireland, people rejoice in having new roofs under their heads, hospitals to tend after those who can’t look after themselves and other charitable centers that help them prosper by giving them the skills they need so they don’t have to rely on a corrupt church that treats them as indentured servants.”

“The church did more than just give them charity. It gave them hope. I won’t get into an argument with you about which system is better but I maintain what I said earlier. If the King cared about his people as you say, he could have exposed our mother and the church would have kept the peace with England. There would have been no reason to cut ties with Rome. Even with a bastard daughter, two sons and a legitimate daughter would have been enough for the ecclesiastical court to hold up the ‘good faith’ argument. Our father would have gone on to keep his usual heirs and marry someone else, making a powerful ally in the process.”

“Our father’s not a lecher like our Plantagenet forebears or our Spanish grandfather. One annulment would not have erased that woman’s mockery of him.”

“That woman is still our mother.” Unlike her older sister, her icy tone didn’t have the same effect. Matilda meant what she told Mary. Had it not been for her father being a true man, she would have never gotten out of the black pit her mother had tossed her in. She was the king’s jewel. Did it matter if she radiated warmth? The whole world would be at her feet after Mary was gone. There would be no one to equal her in power and grace.

“You speak from a place of comfort. Our mother taught you everything about warrior saints and crusader queens but she never mentioned you about the women who stood by, looking after their husband’s domestic spheres while they were away, fighting their wars. After our mother celebrated your fifteenth birthday and said how you were the only one of her daughters who had inherited the beauty and grace of her ancestors, my father took me into his study and gave me this.” She pulled a necklace from underneath her chemise. It was an silver replica of Elizabeth Woodville’s four diamond shaped necklace. Instead of three white pearls, there were three black ones. “He told me that the youngest always inherit the best gifts but regardless of all the accolades, they will never replace their eldest. Our mother gave her heart to the spare because she thought him her equal and she chose you, the youngest of the two of us because you inherited our grandmother’s spirit. But that doesn’t erase the obvious fact that father is still King and I am still the eldest of the two and his favorite. Father does what he does because he is the king. Likewise, I take what I want and ascertain that my uncle knows it was my doing.”

“Even so, Matilda, you will get nothing beyond short-lived satisfaction. Alfred will benefit from your revenge. He’s going to be the one reaping off the rewards of the seduction you orchestrated. You, Matilda. Tool, disposable pawn just like me."

"That may be but I am still a bigger pawn than you. Until I'm expended, I will continue to enjoy watching our father's stardom eclipse our mother and uncle." Her politeness returned. "If you don't mind, sister, I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow so I'd appreciate if you kindly let me rest."

"You will not use our mother's words against me-"

"On the contrary, I will. It is the only good thing that I learned from her and it's fitting that since you never bothered." Matilda said. "If you insist on remaining, I will send someone to call your husband."

"Do it. Philip does not keep me in chains."

"Neither can he control what people whisper. A spoiled princess who refuses her husband's summons because she can't resist bullying her sister whom she should be respectful to on account of her older years. That's not going to sit well with his German cousins and much less with our father's court."

Knowing she had won, Matilda's smile widened. Mary left her sister in a huff, slamming the door behind her. Thank the heavens. Matilda had won this round. But her sister would be back. _She never gives up. If she weren't my enemy, the two of us would be one hell of a team._ It was a shame that her sister had opted for the losing team. Just as their mother, her stubborness would be her undoing.

* * *

**February 1535, Northern England**   
**Yorkshire**

For every calamity, there was something to be gained by the other side. Philip had warned her not to open up to her husband's nephew. Her husband was not an easy man to get along with. Every time she tried to do small-talk with him he'd remind her of what he told when they married. Due to her limited education, he did not have the time nor the patience to expand on whatever it was they were talking.

Before coming to England, she had dreamed of the many joys she shared with her cousin. Philip had always been so brave and kind. A rare oddity in the house of Wittelsbach. Yet, there it was. God had bestowed unto one of their own traits for which the princes of the three more powerful nations in Europe had become famous: bravery, nobility (true nobility, forged from hardship and loss in the battlefield and in a closed environment with envious family members), decency, and loyalty.  
Philip was the type of royal who'd rather die a thousand deaths than forsake his countrymen.

From what he heard of the duke of York, she expected that she'd be married to someone of like-demeanor but she was quickly disappointed. 

Although Henry didn't outright say it, his demeaning attitude left it clear to her how much he despised her. She wasn't like his saintly Catherine or any other of the women who had shared his bed. She was a simpleton who should consider herself fortunate for being wed to a handsome and gifted royal like him. 

She was quickly disappointed. The day Henry finally mounted her, she felt dead inside.

She ahd no one to talk to. Anna couldn't always count on Phililp and Mary to be there. They had themselves to look after. She thought she could rely on her ladies but Henry's friend, the conniving archbishop of York, Cardinal Thomas Wolsey, had dismissed them. With no one to turn to, it felt like heaven was far beyond her reach.

Then one day, the duke of York's youngest nephew, Alfred had shown up. She found him kind of funny. It was hard for her to tell when he was being serious. Most of her maid servants thought little of him. His carefree attitude was a sharp contrast to her husband's meticulous nature.

When he wasn't busy trying to impress her, her ladies tried to gain his attention. All of them were accomplished courtiers; the art of seduction and courtly love came naturally to them. Anna tried to imitate them but every time she tried to put her thoughts on paper, she failed miserably.

She was a slow learner, a poor thinker and a terrible speaker. If she weren't born into a royal family, she would have not been good at much else. Her royal blood was the only valuable thing she had and that too could soon be considered a downside. A rumor had started circulating at court. The emperor had sent another one of his cronies to aid his imperial ambassador, Eustace Chapuys. The Savoyard had amassed a number of spies who had kept him well informed of the duke of York's disastrous marriage. He made no secret that his imperial master had plans to entice the king of England with a potential match for his younger brother. He made sure Anna was there when he told the King that the new pope was seriously considering annulling his older sister's union to the lecherous king Francis.

"In return, the pope hopes that she will find someone who's far worthier and her equal in discourse."

Anna was always good at keeping a brave face. Her insecurities hadn't taken her desperate need to appear pleasing to everyone, including those who belittled her.

If it were up to her, she would raise her head higher than all the vain, priggish English roses floating in the king’s pond. She had more royal blood than any of them. _One word will suffice to knock them down from their high horse_. But she was weak. She was a girl who was trained for domestic, consort duties who foolishly expected love from a man whose heart and soul belonged to someone else.

Anna got pulled back into reality by her calamitous husband’s laughter. Harry boasted of another conquest. It was Madge something. The Shelton girl. Rumor had it that she and the Princess of Wales’ sister, Mary Boleyn, bore the duke of York’s bastard. It wouldn’t shock her if it turned out to be true. More reason for him to remind me of my failure as a wife.

“You have one job, Anna. Bring the bastard a son. You think that Europe isn’t aware of the rumors? It’s plain as day that our cousin’s wife was sired by the King’s brother …” A tear rolled off from her eye. One single tear that she brusquely brushed off before her husband noticed and gave an ugly remark.

_My brother does not need to remind me of my failure. Everyone does. For once, I would like to shine in the sun. Take the center stage like every other damnable consort in this country has. For heaven’s sake. Even the King’s mistresses get to have their two minutes of fame._

The trollop sitting on Henry’s lap had the gall of asking her when she was due. Harry kissed her earlobe. Despite whispering, he raised his voice slightly so Anna and her ladies would hear. “Our grateful mistress is blessed with her mother’s womb. Three pregnancies; all of them a long time in between but worth it.”

“Your Grace is the virtuous one. Most royals are petty. The king of France and his sons are like vultures, pressuring their poor wives to pop a baby or else.”

“Oh, is that so? It is unfathomable to hear that Francis and his dull boys prefer the company of anyone other than their wives.”

Anna scoffed.  
Harry was barely bothered by it. If anything, it emboldened him. When it comes to low blows, there is no one who hits harder than Henry.

Anna pressed her teeth so tightly together that she was sure that the force of her bite would cause them to break.

“Who can blame him though? Nagging wives are unbearable. It is not something any man should have to put up with, even the sinful libertines like Francois.” The mention of Francis’ name in his native language, brought a mischievous smile on Madge’s face. Harry whispered it again. Madge Shelton’s childish laugher nearly made her corset exposed.

 _Don’t women have any self-respect?_ A low neckline like the ones English ladies were accustomed to would have given their elders an apoplexy. Here, the more exposed your neck was the more cleavage you showed, the more praises you earned.

But even the usual suspects didn’t show that much cleavage like Madge. Her silly giggles and squeaky voice was driving her insane. Anna excused herself. Before she fully rose, Alfred walked up to the high table accompanied with his older brother, the Prince of Wales and his wife, Anne Boleyn.

“Uncle, aunt. Leaving so soon?” William asked them.

Anna was thankful for Alfred’s presence but didn’t feel the same about his older brother and sister-in-law. She had tried to make conversation with Anne Boleyn in the past. But every time she tried, the woman would interrupt her, claiming she had other important things that required her immediate attention.

The woman who loved to give as many alms as the Queen was her equal in other aspects. Vainglorious and ambitious. Nothing she does is without good reason. Anne Boleyn’s enmity with the Queen was with good reason. If the Queen’s affair had continued, the Duchess of Bavaria would not have been the only one whose legitimacy would have been put into question. In spite of all of that, they still retained their mutual respect.

Anna couldn’t help but be envious. She had been a good little girl her entire life. She never hurt nor wished ill upon anyone but for that she was rewarded with indifference form these holier-than-thou women.

"I wasn't going to leave nephew, my lady and Alfred, where's your new companion? Fatima, was it?" Alfred smirked at his uncle. He was trying to bait him but Alfred asn't going to fall for it. Thankfully, neither men got into a battle of quips. William replied in Alfred's place. "We are pleased that you are not. His Majesty sends his apologies. He was going to come but alas! Calais is still keeping him busy."

"I bet." Henry said giving his wife a warning glance. Anna's leg relaxed. She eased back into her chair, smiling at the Princess of Wales, politely remarking how radiant she looked in her brand new yellow gown.

"Her Majesty's idea. Queen Catherine joked to me the day after we were married that it was the color of mourning in Spain. You should have seen my face. I thought that there was double meaning hidden in her words. The Queen burst out laughing and told Countess Willoughby 'I told you she'd fall for it.' Her Majesty went from the angel of broken dreams to dreams come true. I had never been so nervous. I was so certain that her gift was a sign how I was killing her last dream of uniting her son to that dimple faced niece of his."

"You mustn't be too harsh on my cousin. Poor Catalina grew under her mother's thumb and it requires a great ounce of patience to handle mad Joanna." William said. He and Anne chuckled.

"Infanta Catalina is an enchanting young woman." Henry said. "Her patience is impressive, taking into account that she also had to put up with a whore-mongering father."

Anne made a mock shock expression. "That is far too bold of you, Your Grace. Philip was a condecorated war hero like His Grace, the Duke of Bavaria." 

"The Duke of Bavaria can barely form a coherent sentence." Henry said.

"You should not be too hard on him, uncle. The Duke has been in England for almost three years. Some people find it harder to speak our language than others." Alfred said turning to Anna who mouthed a small 'thank you'.

William and Anne Boleyn saw the facial exchange with interest. Anne Boleyn was well aware of what Alfred was doing.

"You know, when I was little, your former tutor, Sir Thomas More, told me that it took you over two years to learn Catalan. Two years." Alfred made the sign with his two fingers. "And that is with our mother tutoring you almost every day. You were still behind the King who did not put in as much effort as you. Some people just learn faster, uncle."

Alfred's snobbish attitude drove Henry insane. If it wasn't for the self-control he possessed, he would've knocked his teeth out. 

"Your father had an unfair advantage." _Still has_ -Henry thought. "He started at an early age and it is far easier to learn when you are a toddler than as an adult." 

"Still, he bested you there. Don't feel bad, uncle. You still know two more languages."

"This isn't a competition, Al. Our knowledgeable Duke of York knows that constantly trying is more important than achieving your goal. Sir Thomas even said it's more important than merit." William said.

"Sir Thomas More says far too many things for his own good. Or I should, say write since that is all he does nowadays. A bit sad if you ask me." Alfred said.

No one asked you. Hearing these two pretentious pricks speak ill of his former tutor made Henry's blood boil.  _Who do they think they are?_  T _homas might be eclipsed by the wave of new men my nephew surrounds himself with_. Flaccid individuals who masqueraded their intellectual cowardice with conscientious objection to conflict. Henry despised nothing more than brown-nosed flatterers. They leeched off the royals to gain advantage over their well-born and bred peers.  
If Henry had any say, he'd have banished the whole lot of them years ago.  
But what more can you expect? He thought with disgust. Seering envy coursed through his veins as William and Anne Boleyn shared a laugh with Alfred.

None of them deserved to be among the privileged few. Alfred was a philandering, vainglorious prick and his brother was no better. William was physically faithful to Anne. Many women had tried -and hilariously failed- to turn him away from his wife. None of them possessed the allure and intelligence that had attracted William to the English ambassador's daughter. Whereas they were far more gorgeous and beautiful than the future queen of England, none of them could keep up with the complicated subjects he loved to discuss.

Pot calling the kettle. The irony of his views didn't miss him. In the beginning, he had been faithful to William's mother as well. Arthur had gotten sicker after their mother died. Everyone was certain he'd be the next one to die with Harry inherting their father's brown. For this reason -and this reason only- Harry swore to Catherine that he'd be loyal to no one else but her. The two shared an intimate kiss -one that she regretted afterwards, blaming herself for leading him on. Harry had never humiliated himself for anyone except for her.  
 _I got down on my knees and begged her to tell her mother and everyone else that Arthur was impotent. Four years and still no baby -I told her. But she didn't want to listen to me. A flower cannot grow in a garden with no sunlight, even when she is surrounded by other flowers to keep her company. I was supposed to be her sunlight but that damnable sense of pride and duty she still keeps, kept her from me._  
And then there was fate, who preferred to smile on that undeserving cold-hearted, stone-faced Prince. All of a sudden, Arthur had emerged from his second rush with death, stronger and more determined. It was as if he was a new man.  
Henry VII had always hoped his son would bring back Camelot and be like his namesake but as he got older, it was clear to everyone that he'd be a terrible ruler. England needed a man of letters and actions. With everyone losing confidence in Arthur, their father's (and soon his father) turned their attention to Harry. But his recovery ruined everything. Henry VII began to ignore Harry. He publicly bestowed more favor unto Arthur and never failed to congratulate him for all of his achievements.

 _I have the lion's blood._ The one who was supposed to bring Camelot to England, not that weakling. Why had fate reared its ugly head towards him? Catherine was a woman whose heart yearned for action and love. Of the two, it was her who got the raw end of the deal. Submission to a man who never saw her as anything other than a jewel to enhance his image.

Even so, he thought he could break the wheel of fate but he was quickly proven wrong.

Anne Boleyn and William looked like the ideal couple but one close look and a cunning mind like his, should he want to, could sow the seeds of discord to turn William's attention elsewhere. Good thing I am not the type of person who wishes ill on my kin. The women who had been turned away by William were stupid. Another one needed to come and impress William with something other than beauty. William's regal made it hard for the common folk to decipher. He had a warrior's soul, a poet's heart, and a leading mind. The woman to replace Anne didn't have a hard task ahead of her, if she knew how to play her cards right.

"Yes, it is not a competition. Your Highness, your cousin Madge told me that her father and yours have found a perfect match for her." Henry said, turning the conversation to more mundane things.

"Yes, we have. James Butler if you'll recall. The pre-contract between us was never valid and the Archbishop of York has received good news from Ireland so it is only a matter of time before Madge here becomes Countess of Ormonde." Anne said. "Has a nice ring to it and Madge already fantasizes about it. Right Madge?"

Madge nodded.

"Last letter to me and my brother, she told me to address her as my lady of Ormonde. First Countess in our family. Lots of Dukes, knights' wives, a Princess-"

"Don't forget possible Queen." William said. 

Anne smiled at the possibility. If only. She still hoped that the two of them could have a son. Much as she adored their little princess, Lizzie was still a girl and the last time a woman stood to inherit the English throne, England had exploded in civil war.

"That too ... but we have never had a Countess. Madge here will make us proud."

"You know I will, cousin. His Grace here has motivated me to continue my pursuit of poetic enjoyment."

"As long as your husband doesn't miss out on it." Anne apprised.

Anna's eyes widened. Her mouth opened then quickly closed. Crude, English humor. It was unlike any of the japes she was accustomed to at Cleves. She turned to her husband whom she expected to be annoyed but on the contrary. He laughed out loud. 

"That's far too bold, even for me. Your cousin will have plenty to enjoy. Ireland is a savage land. Even the lawful behave as if they never been under the rule of law. Madge and her husband will find many ways to make their union creative." Henry said. "One can never get too bored with a sculpted belle like yourself."

Madge thanked them. Then, in usual Howard fashion, she whispered something naughty to his ear which got a pernicious smile from her royal lover.

Anna's sense of worth was destroyed. All she could do was celebrate what her husband was celebrating. She raised her goblet and toasted to her husband's lover's impending union. Everyone else did the same, then they returned to their mundane conversation, ignoring the obvious hurt in the duchess of York's eyes.

* * *

Alfred sparred with his brother. He dueled with more brute force than before. William had to remind him a few times that they were practicing. "You've been awfully quiet since the banquet. Are you sore that our uncle got to Madge Shelton first? You have plenty more from our duchess of York's beauteous household." William said. Then, he added, "It's a most peculiar sight but one not so bad. If the duchess were as radiant as they, everyone would have a hard time identifying who's our aunt."

"Serves our uncle good then, to have someone who's not a slave of all those folly vanities his women entertain themselves with."

"And you." Will pointed out. "When it's not uncle Henry being fawned over by the English roses, it's you they flock to."

"They shamelessly flaunt themselves in front of us thinking that they are more than just another body to warm our beds. Their fathers' greed never ceases to amaze me. They are so obsessed with status and wealth that they don't consider to ask for more."

"That is because at their core, they are still conscious of their low-birth. They are shameless and greedy bastards but they are still scared of the power we wield so they never dared to ask us anything higher than what they think they deserve." Will said, voiding another blow from Al. "If they knew better, they'd know that you and uncle Harry would reward them a dozen times over for the good services their daughters provided but they will never know better."

"You could say the same thing about royals." Al said. "Woman after woman and all of them quickly forget about us, despite all of them swearing undying love. I can't handle it anymore."

"What are you going to do? Switch to less than fashionable ugly plumps?"

Alfred launched at his brother. William's quick reflexes kicked in. His speed saved him countless times from getting hurt. But eventually, he became too tired and between their constant digs at each other, resting intervals before they resumed their duel, Al managed to cut him.

Al's blade wasn't sharper than Will's, neither was the cut he made on Will's left shoulder serious enough to warrant a physician but it still angered the Prince of Wales.

"What is your problem? Two hours in this bloody forest, I ask you one question about our aunt and you scream at me like a banshee and now this!"

"Do not be so sensitive. It is just a flesh wound."

"One that can get infected. I swear, Al. First you hatch a crazy plot with Matilda then you become incensed when I celebrate you for having the brains to take action against the man who destroyed our mother's life and your first reaction is to go full assassin on me?"

"Not now, Will. I am not in the mood for one of your lectures. Save them for father when he is not surrounded by those amoral vultures."

"I mean it, Al. What is going on with you? You're not even making fun of me for discovering your little plan."

"It is not much of a secret when everyone knows. A secret would be something-"

"That's learned when it is too late. I know, I know but we are royals. Nothing is ever kept secret among us. It's Anna of Cleves isn't it? That is what is keeping you up at night?"

"You are the one who's going to be King when father breathes his last so you tell me."

"For once, let us be serious with each other, brother. You want my throne. I don't fault you for it. If I were in your position I'd feel the same."

"No, you wouldn't." Al said, sheathing his sword. He hopped on his horse. Will did the same. They dismissed the stable boys and put their horses back in their place. After they did, they resumed their conversation.

"I am going to come clean. If I tell Matilda, she will laugh or maybe she is already laughing because she is Matilda, after all and as you so mildly put it, brother. Nothing is ever kept secret among us." 

"So come clean with me, brother. What's changed with you? You've been different since last night."

"You already know so let's cut to the chase and start discussing the conundrum I put myself in. If I saw myself two years ago, old me would be laughing at my new morality."

"I wouldn't blame him." William said. The two began to walk back to the manor. "Have you ever thought about changing our sister's mind? She has his attention and if all three of us worked together, we could convince him to tell parliament to declare uncle Harry's union to Anna null and void?"

"I have played that scenario in my head since yesterday night and every time, I see a dead end. The Duke can be convinced but Anna is a different matter altogether."

"Who cares what she thinks. Her happiness is all that matters. Once she realizes how vastly different marriage life is with you, she will forgive you."

Alfred wasn't convinced. Until yesterday, this was nothing more than a game. Anna was more than another pawn in the chessboard. Her regal composure, kindness, and general faith in people had won him over. Before being greeted by Anne and Anna, Will warned him not to keep the doors of his heart open. "Anna isn't ambitious but she is not above reproach either. That's your big problem. You always go to the extreme. You either think the worst of people and use it to your advantage or see the best in them and also use it for your advantage. For once you see someone you do not want to use. It's called guilt; don't let our Cleves princess make you addicted to it because mark my words, you will end up feeling bitter and angry just like our parents."


	13. Saving what we can

Alfred took Anna on one of his many hunts. She never enjoyed the outdoors as much as she did when she was with her nephew-in-law. She asked him if there were other things he enjoyed besides hunting. His answer was next to nothing. "From where I am standing, there is nothing more thrilling than the hunt."

"Not just in the outdoors." Anna commented.

"You should not believe every court gossip."

"I wouldn't if I didn't see it with my own eyes. Do not be besides yourself worry, nephew. I do not fault people for being weak in the face of temptation. There are so many pretty English roases floating around that it is hard for a man not to fall for one of them."

"Tudors are not like most men" he said then quickly added, "or royals." He cleared his throat as he got off his horse. He took out his bow and fired at the deer. After a servant brought it to him, congratulating him on his fine catch, the pair rode back to the manor. "My father joked that Tudorrs are a rare bunch because we want it all. Just what that all is will remain a mystery to us until judgmental day. If it is a specific thing or all that there is to God's green earth. It is a conundrum. When we think that we have achieved our goal, we start questioning ourselves. Was it worth it? The thought of having a life of our own, free of passion and other sins is unfathomable. So for better or for worse, we revert backk to our older selves."

"You sabotage yourselves?" Anna asked, surprised that the dynasty who had achieved so much, coming out on top when the odds were stacked against it, were huge masochists. "Why?"

Alfred shrugged. "I guess a life of plentitude and peace is so alien to us that we prefer the struggle over the end goal. At least there ... well, better the devil you know than the one you don't."

"I don't know what to say. I have never been at a loss off words. I can't imagine anyone who'd prefer suffering over a life free of it. I am not an articulate person. Far from it, I can barely put two and two together with this," she said, making a gesture to her hands, obviously referring to her present gibberish, "being the end result. But even so, I speak for everyone else in the world when I say that it makes no sense why someone would prefer to be beaten than rewarded."

"When you live a life of suspicion, persecution, and hardship like the Tudors have lived, you come to appreciate the beauty of the horrors engendered by humanity."

"I am more at a loss." Anna said, baffled by her nephew-in-law.

"Let me show you." She and Alfred got down from their horses. They headed to the second floor of the manor where there was a long hallway containing recreations of his father's favorite paintings.  He showed her one where the one where King Arthur was seated with his fellow knights at the round table. There was an open roof showing a redder dragon patrolling the skies with two angels trailing after it.

"My father told me that his namesake grew up being belittled by his adoptive father and brother. Even when he pulled Excalibur, people still saw him as an ill-begotten bastard. 'Born of sin', were my father's exact words. Arthur's failure wasn't in betraying his wife, it was in giving in to his insecurities."

"I can relate to that." Anna said. Alfred took a step forward. Anna did not back away this time. "Henry is an accomplished writer, musician, and writer. He is everything a princess dreams in a prince. I should be happy. I am happy" she quickly said, "but ..."

"You are not. It is alright. There are no secrets among family."

"You shouldn't get too close to me, Alfred."

"Call me, Al. All my friends call me that."

"I am your aunt. If your father were to find out, the world would not hear the end of it and neither will I. I cannot return to Cleves in disgrace. Everything depends on it."

"You worry too much over what some ministers think. Since when have royals bend the knee to sheep?"

"I am your aunt. By marriage. If this alliance doesn't work, Cleves loses a powerful ally. Spain will never, for the life of them, ally themselves with my family again. The pope cursed us when we sided with Luther. My brother could crawl back to the holy father with barefoot monks whipping him like they did your ancestors, Henry II; the pope would still see that his predecessor's curse on him be fulfilled." 

Ever since the Emperor's troops had sacked Rome, the papacy had been under Habsburgs. Every pope since then had thrown curses at the Emperor, but none of them materialized because his imperial Majesty was far too powerful. Anna's brother on the other hand was nothing. If the pope wanted, he could send his lord protector to crush him.

"Cleves is nothing without a powerful godfather protecting them."

"You hate your brother. The Duke of Cleves has never given two hoots about you. Why should you care about him? Besides, your brother is a trickster. I am certain he can trick someone into entering an alliance with you. He still has one unmarried sister."

"That is not the point and you know it. Cleves is an important in-between zone. If it falls to the Catholic powers, the rest of Protestant Europe becomes threatened. I hate to be the decisive tool in this game but I have no choice."

"Yes you do. You always do. Marry me."

Anna laughed.

"What's so funny? It's not that outrageous. You've heard the Savoyard. My cousin is going to annul Eleanor's marriage to the French King. After she does, mark my words, my father is going to forsake the Cleves alliance in exchange for a powerful enemy against England's ancient enemy."

"But the Protestant alliance. The league. Your father broke away with Rome. He was excommunicated last month!"

"So? Popes can do and undo as many things as they please. They are the Catholic Church, that's what they are best at. My father doesn't care what god he prays to or how he prays as long as he has power."

Anna was shocked by Alfred's revelations but after what she'd witnessed by his family, she knew he was speaking the truth. "So ... is that it? One hell for another?"

"Who said anything about being in hell?"

Anna's tone turned deadly serious.  It was the first time that Alfred had heard speak to him thus. Anna hated being so harsh but she feared it was the only way to make him understand that this was not a game for her. "I know about your reputation, Al and it is not just court gossip. What guarantee do I have that you will be true to me?"

"None." Al said earnestly. He let go of her hands. "I can't promise you what we both know I am incapable of but you can rest easy about my intentions. As your husband, I shall give you the respect owed to you as my wife. You won't be deprived of anything, including my affection."

Anna smirked. "You speak of respect, affection but you fail to mention love. My brother is a hard man. An ogre to his sisters and hypocrite to his enemies but to his wife, he's the greatest man that ever lived. I want to be loved like my mother was loved by my father and cherished like your sisters and my sister-in-law are by their husbands. Is it too much to ask?" 

The desperation was evident in Anna's voice as was the sadness in her eyes. Anna of Cleves followed God's laws and man's and instead of being rewarded (or praised) for it, she was mocked.

In a perfect world, she would be revered as a saint. But this was not a perfect world. The world they were born in was one where the wicked prospered and the just suffered.

"My lady, heaven doesn't have too far away. You've said so yourself that no one wishes to suffer. If you place your trust in me, I will ensure that your stay in England is more comfortable."

Anna doubted that but something in the younger Tudor Prince's voice put her mind at ease. 

Al got bolder and placed his hand on her cheek then kissed her other. "Trust me, my lady. I shall make this your promised land." He vowed.

* * *

Mary related what she had been told by one of Anna of Cleves' ladies. Philip told her that it was best she did not tell anyone else. She promised she would not. "But, if it is already being whispered by her ladies, it's because my father knows as well." 

Philip eyed some of Mary's companions. These were Mary's most trusted ladies. Yet, Philip had urged her not to refer to the King as anything other than her father. 

"Anna trusts God's judgment, what she feels is the Almighty's judgment which happens to coincide with her brother's worries. If he and His Majesty break the accord in place of a new one, then all be well. If not," he sighed. 

"All hell is not going to break loose. The King will never accept he made a mistake. Breaking with Rome is something he still thinks was in the interest of his subjects. He will use hyperbole and other charming words to fool the imperial ambassadors and papal envoys. He's going to act like the prodigal son returning to his father after a long sinful journey."

"This pope is not like the other one. He excommunicated your father."

Mary did not need to be reminded of that. The King's excommunication was the reason why she prayed longer at night. 

"The pope has the power to rescind what he did if it is in good faith. He has a cunning mind but the King is a good actor with far more cunning ministers." Mary said. "It is best to take advantage of a raw deal. His Majesty will get what he wants in the end. That is a fact."

Philip was worried she'd say that. But he was far more worried that he was beginning to agree with her. _Tudors,_ he thought with dismay _. Hot tempered, ambitious lot with serpentine minds._ Which made them far more dangerous than any other Christian ruler. 

Philip had fallen in love with Mary but he never considered Mary a Tudor. She was cunning and unforgiving but she didn't play fast and loose with her morals. Unlike the rest of her family, she was deeply principled. Mary was the sort of perosn who'd die before forsaking her beliefs or betraying the people she loved.

Anna and I found ourselves in no man's land yet here we are, stuck in this place because our hearts left us with no choice. For Alfred's sake, he hoped Anna was happy.

Mary's words broke Philip's chain of thought. 

"It also undermines Matilda's plans." 

Philip looked at her skeptically. "How? This was part of her plan all along and with my cousin married to your brother, she gets to enact the next part of her plan."

"Not exactly. Matilda never factored in that Alfred would fall in love with her."

"I don't see how that makes a big difference. Alfred will still follow their plan through. Anna and your sister-in-law, the Princess of Wales, aren't exactly best friends, so she will follow it as well."

"You understimate the power of love, Philip." Mary said with a tone of finality. Philip said nothing more on the subject. Whenever Mary said cryptic things like that, Philip knew the conversation was over.

Mary had been witness to many things in her adolescent life, one of them being the power of love. People spoke of the horrors of sin and the hold fear and doubt had over the faithful but ever thought about love.

It was love that drove her mother into the arms of her real father and the king insane with rage when he found out about it. And it was love which would destroy Matilda's plans and drive Alfred away from her and the King.


	14. Another, day another night

**March 1535,  
Kimbolton Castle, East Anglia**

Alfred still had to contend with the hard truth: He’d fallen in love with Anna of Cleves. Catherine of Aragon had to deal with the fall out of her youngest son’s predicament. Mary had come with the latest gossip –courtesy of her good friend, Anne Stanhope, Edward Seymour –the Viscount of Beauchamp second wife.

“It concerns me how accustomed they’ve become to one another’s company.”

“Platonic love is the most harmless love of all. It’s not like you are going to forsake everything for failing to knock sense into your dullard of a brother.”

Mary looked at her in shock. “Alfred is a bit naïve when it comes to love but he is not ignorant about other things.”

“If you know nothing about love, you are ignorant about anything else.” Catherine said.

Seeing that she wasn’t going to get anywhere else with her mother, Mary decided to change the subject. She told her about the glorious news that would be hitting court soon.

Mary’s happiness was evident. In an instant her expression went from one of concern to interminable joy.

Catherine felt happy for her daughter. She had prayed every night before she went to sleep that God would bless her marriage with many sons. ‘ _You either have sons or you have nothing to stand on.’_  
Her father had given her plenty of advice before she left England for Spain but that had been the most important one.

She did not relay it to her daughter. Mary had enough on her plate to be worried over something so trivial. Mary is younger than I was when I conceived William. She is young, beautiful, and has always enjoyed good health. Even if her first child isn’t a boy, if she’s healthy, it will be a good indication that healthy boys will follow.

“You and Philip will have a lot of names to discuss. Have you thought of any names if it is a girl?” Catherine boldly asked.

“To be completely honest with you mother, we haven’t given it any thought. All we care is that he or she is healthy. Whatever God gives us, we will accept it.”

Hearing those words nearly brought Catherine to tears. Catherine had never been overly sentimental but hearing how Mary was married to someone who saw her daughter as something than a baby-making machine, brought back a sense of joy she hadn’t feel in decades.

“You are blessed with good fortune. Don’t forget to thank God every day with this. Before you go into your confinement, send me a letter so I can be there with you.”

Mary promised she would.

“There is no force on this earth which will keep us apart. I promised you long ago that when I was expecting my first child, you will be there with me.”

“I remember. I did not think you would remain in England but thank God you have. If you can, I would like you to invite Anne to assist you as well.”

Mary blinked. “But I thought you two were not on speaking terms yet.”

“We are not but William loves you and Anne has been nothing but friendly towards you.”  
 _In spite of everything that’s happened, Anne’s attitude towards Mary remained the same_.

“She and your older brother backed your union against dissenting voices in parliament.” _Including those that spoke on my behalf_ –Catherine left unsaid. Catherine never failed exposing her enemies’ worst habits, turning them into social pariahs and their allies into enemies. She felt no pleasure watching people suffer, the idea of hurting people appalled her. But part of being royal meant doing things you hated. It was a simple matter of survival. ‘ _Hurt those who have every intention of hurting you before they hurt you.’_ –Another one of her father’s advice.  
Through all the trail of destruction her parents had left, one of the best lessons they taught her and her siblings was this: Never burn your bridges. Once you win over something or somebody, don’t overstate your victory. Your opponent can be more dangerous when he’s down than when he is on top. _‘Either kill him or offer him your hand in friendship. I advise you the latter. You gain a friend and he gains a powerful backer. Everyone wins.’_ Were her mother’s exact words.  
Catherine hadn’t yet forgiven Anne for telling on her. God was the one in charge of doing that. Nevertheless, Catherine harbored no ill will for her.  
 _In her place, I would have done the same. Except, I would have been more secretive about it._

Anne Boleyn was a woman whose priorities were sorted out the minute she wed her son. Her loyalties were first and foremost to her husband and daughter, Elizabeth.  
As such, Anne was going to do whatever was within her power to ensure her daughter’s inheritance remained intact which included keeping the support of heretics. _God only knows how much I wanted that union to be stopped but Anne and William were always in my way._ Together with their allies, Anne and William’s efforts paid off. It also helped that Arthur saw an advantage. Mary’s union led to Henry’s; which unsettled most of Catholic Europe _. As long as they remain potential threats to the papacy and my imperial nephew, Arthur will continue to entertain the heretic royal Houses; France and Spain’s joke of an alliance further encourages him._

The fruit of this alliance also gave Anne Boleyn’s stronger allies –which she’d be in desperate need when she became Queen. But royals as the common folk were fickle. If Anne became a stranger to the Duke of Bavaria and his Duchess, the German league would also see her as a stranger.

Much as she hated the idea and knew how wrong it was, Catherine set aside her moral qualms for her daughter’s sake.

“No one will be happier to assist you in the birth of your first child than Anne and I.”

“Next thing I know, you are going to beg me to bring Matilda.”

Catherine laughed. “Your sister is more preoccupied with your father’s business than what she calls women’s useless burden. It is an important moment in your life, the last thing you need is to be surrounded by negativity.”

“Matilda has plenty to spare.” Mary commented. “Do you think she is really going to be betrothed to a Catholic royal?”

“I hope so. Lady Beauchamp hasn’t heard any more on that subject?”

Mary shook her head. “Court gossip is as rife as ever but when it becomes to my sister, no one dare say a word unless they want their tongues cut off. I am glad you have not been at court, mother. Everyone is afraid of their own shadow.”

“Nothing has changed then.”

“I’m serious, mother. It’s far worse than before. Before, people spoke up, albeit in jest. Now, everyone is lucky if they will hear the King’s fool mock one of the King’s favorites.”

Catherine placed her hand on Mary’s belly. “Write to your brother when you get the chance and invite him and Anne to your homestead. The rest of the world can tear each other to pieces. They’re the past, you and your siblings are the future.”

* * *

**May 1535  
Framlinghan Castle, East Anglia**

Anne Boleyn was thrilled to hear of Mary’s invitation. Her daughter’s favorite aunt smiled kindly at the little girl running towards her.

“Oh my. You have gotten so big.” Mary exclaimed.

“Not as big as you. Mother tells me you will get as big as her when she had me.”

Anne gave Mary an apologetic glance. “Not as big, I hope.” Mary joked.

After putting her niece down, Mary hugged her brother and then his wife.

William asked her where Philip was, Mary responded by pointing outside.  
“I bet you miss it. You were always skilled when it came to the bow.” William said.

“Lamentably, for you, I can still whip your behind.”

“Ah sister, you never cease to amaze me. Will there ever be a time when you are not so bold?”

“I like pushing your buttons.” At his annoyance, added. “By the looks of it, I still got it.”

Settling in, the royal couple talked about how Mary’s pregnancy advanced the Schmalkaldic League’s ambitions. There were only two people standing in their way; if both of them succeeded, it would upset the League’s plans, depriving Anne and William of powerful allies.

“Your mother should have used the rod. My stepmother did.” Anne said, recalling the time when her brother George had made fun of their stepmother, upsetting her tremendously that she gave Thomas Boleyn an ultimatum: Either his son learned to respect her or she goes.  
Unlike their mother whom he’d married out of pure interest, Beatrice Clarke, was someone he’d married because he fell in love with her. Though she was unable to have children, Thomas Boleyn would do just about anything to keep her by her side. So with her warning being said, he acquiesced to her demand. _George was whipped and no mockery was heard on his part ever again._

Anne was a firm believer in discipline. She didn’t like the idea of physical punishment unless it was needed. This was one of those times.  
“Your mother has always been too soft on your brother. Being a spare, he always thought he could get away with everything. Nothing has changed. Your sister is using him and he thinks he can play her.” Anne shook her head. “It’s a shame he can’t take advantage of the nobles your father has been offering him.”

“My father thinks of all of his offspring as tools. Everything he does is for a purpose, Anne.”

“Your brother is being played by two people. That makes it much worse. Matilda wants to play everyone against each other for her amusement and your father banks on that amusement because he knows that as long as he has grandchildren from either one of you, the Tudor dynasty is secure.”

“The crown would never forgive him. The cousins’ war is still fresh on everyone’s minds. If distant memory still ingrained in every one of his magnates’ minds is not enough to deter him from kin slaying, nothing will. My father has a heart of stone when it comes to business but his family can see the cracks.”

“You bank on the assumption that he still has a care to spare when his actions say otherwise.” Anne said. Sometimes she wished that William was as cold as his father when it came to his family.  
“One day, your brother will marry. Before you say, that is not possible; think about it. Whoever it is, she will give him offspring. After she does, your father will have no more reason to keep either of you around.”

“I sincerely hope you are not saying what I think you’re saying.”

“Your father has beaten all the odds. He gets sick, he recovers quickly. There’s a plot against him, he sniffs the culprits out before they get a chance to enact it. There’s not stopping him.”

“Then what do you suggest we do?” William asked, dreading the answer.

Anne paused, then said with melancholy. “You must do what works best for you … and us.”

* * *

**Oatlands Palace, South East Anglia**

Anna’s routine was a living hell. Although she had to admit that this hell was a little more tolerable in the South of England than in the North. The weather down here suited her and the people were far friendlier. Besides that, Philip’s letters had been her only other consolation. She was happy to hear the news of Mary’s pregnancy. Everywhere throughout the kingdom, people celebrated.

“The Tudors are numerous and strong!” The crowds cried in unison.

Anna was no longer jealous of the attention the other royal women received. _They are loved and I never will be. That is the path God chose for me so I must stick to it._

Unfortunately, Henry didn’t make her acceptance any easier. Whenever he caught her laughing or enjoying one of her favorite pastries, he crudely remarked how unbecoming it was for a lady of her status to behave in such a manner. The few times that Anna retorted, it was done in a sarcastic way, hoping that would shut Henry up but it only encouraged his bullying.

“The Queen has a sweet tooth too. She devoured three entire courses in one sitting and that was before she was expecting her first child. But she did so, slowly and with decorum; she was a royal not a hog, sweetheart.”

That was a low blow, even for him. Anna opened her mouth but then closing, the words that had previously passed through her head suddenly vanished.

Seeing Anna so miserable, made Henry smile.

“The court is merciless, my brother more so. Everything depends on our daughter and our union so let’s save ourselves some trouble and appear as the happiest couple to the world.”

“Your daughter-“

“Oh come on, Anna. Don’t play the fool. You noticed the minute you got here how alike we are.”

“You don’t even hide it! How can you be so … blunt?”

“Because this is who I am, my dear. You better get used to it. You care about your family, don’t you? Yes, I know you do. I have read your letters. You keep begging your brother to show you respect and complain how unfair your family has been to you, and now your husband is too. It’s always ‘poor me’ this, ‘poor me’ that. You are sick with the ‘poor me’ syndrome. You can’t bear to look at yourself in the mirror because you will be disgusted by what you see and do not try to deny it because the only person you hurt when you do, is you.”

Henry was unfazed by her tears.

“You are not supposed to read my letters. T-those are private.” Anna could not contain herself. How could the man who promised to love and protect her be so cruel?

 _Why me?_ Her mind immediately went back to what she had agreed earlier. _I must be strong. You are strong, Anna. He is only one man. God is the only one whose opinion matters. Let him abuse you, treat you like a rag doll. Remember that happiness lies in acceptance of what God has given you._

“Always the victim. This tantrum you’re throwing right now is why you should go and seek spiritual help and check yourself into one of those hospitals-“

“So you can be with Catherine?” Anna could stand it no longer. God forgive her outburst but Henry could be so odious that his odiousness was enough to break a Saint’s patience. “I don’t intrude in your personal life, Henry but I have eyes and ears. I see how your eyes light up when she is mentioned. You are breaking your vows by giving your heart to her instead of me.”

“I can forgive how you speak against your own husband but I won’t stand for you disrespecting a woman who is everything you have ever hoped to be.”

“An adulterer? A cheat, a sanctimonious hypocrite? I definitely aspire being that.” She said sarcastically.

Henry clenched his fists. One more word out of her mouth and she’d be sorry. But what did she care anymore? She had given in to her anger. Unable to control herself, she had broken her promise and condemned herself to a life of greater misery.

 _Maybe Henry’s right and I am a pitiable creature._ Anna always tried to move away from self-pity but every time she thought she was this close to breaking free from her mental blocks, the voices of self-doubt and discord seeded by her brother and (now) her husband, came back.

 _I can learn things quickly but I can’t show it off to the public because I am always haunted because I am always haunted by my failures and doubts._ Her life was one filled with ghosts and specters she will never be free of. The sooner I accept that, the less miserable I will become. _And yet … every time I accept it, the last remnants of my free will beg the question ‘why me?’_ Why her, indeed. Anna had never done anything improper, given cause for her parents to worry or her brother to make excuses for her poor behavior. As far as anyone in Cleves was aware of, she was the perfect daughter.   
What good did that do me? Here I am. A woman bound to a man who hates me.  
When Henry made her feel this insignificant, she thought back to her father. Better with the devil you know. At least my brother doesn’t draw up a smile and makes me think a second after he’s humiliated me, that he is sorry and things will change from now on.

“I will tell you one thing I am not, Henry. I am not an unfaithful wife. You can treat me like the lowest of the lowest and I will still do my duty because that is what I was bred to do.”

“And what is that supposed to do for me? Do you want me to sing you praises, shower you gifts?”

“I just want your love.”

“You don’t survive out of mere love. Get your head out of your dream soap box and start living in the real world.”

Those were the last words the two had exchanged for the day. Once again, Henry had the last laugh. Another day, another night ending with her sleeping on their giant bed with no one to comfort her but herself.


End file.
